Thousand Rainy Days Since We First Met
by Darkglare
Summary: This is a post-DH HG/SS story that relies on a number of HG/SS tropes. Beware of unreliable narrators.
1. Chapter 1 - May 2, 2008

Cruel author warning – this is not a traditional, post-DH Hermione/Snape story although it uses some of the common tropes present in HG/SS stories. And I know I write delusional people.

Thousand Rainy Days Since We First Met

Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter, nor any of the characters from the books or movies. I do not make any money from the writing of this story.

May 2, 2008, a Friday

Hermione was worn out and somewhat damp. Too many people for umbrellas earlier. She had transfigured an umbrella once they were out of the crowd, but the drizzle had already misted her.

And her husband, Ron, liked to brag that he could play quidditch in any sort of weather. Except they weren't playing quidditch. They were returning home from the Tenth Anniversary celebration of the Battle of Hogwarts.

Initially, it was supposed to be held on the school grounds. But it was raining. It rained yesterday. Rained all day today. Continuous rain.

So it was moved inside the school, even though students were still in attendance.

And after that, a stroll to leave the school grounds so they could apparate. The headmaster, Severus Snape, had not allowed anyone to apparate in or out of his school. Which Hermione didn't expect him to do. It was rare any headmaster did, so that is why _Hogwarts, A History_ simply said no one could apparate while on school grounds.

Ginny muttered, "Still looks plenty healthy to me, Harry."

"What?"

"Snape. You named one of our children after him because he's dying. He's been dying for ten Merlin-poxed years."

"Oh, well …" Harry's voice trailed off.

"Yeah weeeellll - just so none of us ever says Al's middle name. It's not like Severus is common."

Hermione said, "Actually in the wizarding world, Latin names are not unusual. Severus was the name of a Roman emperor."

"So was Nero," Ginny quipped.

"He'll probably die soon," Ron suggested. "He didn't look so hot."

"Does he ever?" Ginny said. "That's what we all said five years ago. Ten years ago."

"I didn't name Al after him because I want Snape dead," Harry said.

Ginny grumbled, "Why would anyone want him alive?"

"He has suffered," Hermione reminded them. "Poisoned, tortured under _cruciatus_ till bones broke and tendons snapped, and then almost ten days under muggle medical care that did more harm than good."

"We're not saying he hasn't …" Ron fumbled for words. "But I mean, really McGonagall said she was only acting headmistress because she thought he was almost dead. And he hasn't returned the favor by finding the Grim in his tea."

"Finding the …" Hermione started to repeat. "You sound like you really want him dead."

"He is a Slytherin."

"What's that supposed to mean, Ron?" Harry asked.

"Just that he could be faking or something."

Hermione blurted out, "What?" Prof. Snape could hardly use his left arm, certainly couldn't walk the way he had, and besides scars, and a darkened skin discoloration that crept up to his jawline on that side. Ron had seen Snape after Nagini almost killed him. What did he want, the man confined to an iron lung?

"Oh come on," Ron explained. "Don't you remember the way Draco carried on with his arm in a sling after Buckbeak gave him a love tap?"

"There's a big difference between Prof. Snape and Draco Malfoy," Hermione asserted.

"Not much," Ginny said. "Hey, did some of them get to use the floo? I don't see many people walking to the gate."

"We all didn't leave at the same time."

"And we still have to get the kids," Hermione reminded them. Her mother-in-law didn't approve of anyone other than herself or immediate family, watching Rose and Hugo, or Harry's children either. At times, Hermione got the impression that Molly Weasley didn't approve of Hermione's childrearing ideas, or Hermione's insistence that she work. Outside the home. Full time. Both of Hermione's parents worked and she turned out all right. In fact, better than all right.

But what irked her even more was Molly's self-matryrdom. She _had_ to stay home today to watch all the children because even though she was at the battle, her family needed her to stay home. And Arthur stayed home too to keep her company.

Hermione could understand Molly's point of view, especially since it probably brought back memories of Fred, but Hermione didn't want to be defined by her children's accomplishments alone. Or her husband's, not that Arthur or Ron were climbing a ladder to anywhere. They were both comfortable where they were.

Harry, on the other hand, might become the head of the Auror department at the Ministry. His fame earned him recognition, yet Harry actually worked and worked hard. Unlike Ron.

Hermione's husband, along with herself and Harry, had been each awarded with an Order of Merlin first class, back in 1998. Neither Harry nor Hermione were willing to let that be their peak of their accomplishments at the mere age of 18.

Harry had found his path. But Hermione didn't think her accomplishment regarding house elf welfare at the Ministry was enough. It was the beginning, but of what she didn't know. The Ministry was bureaucratic and an oppressive work environment. Even when achieving the reform she wanted, and fighting to get every line, Hermione did not want to spend the rest of her life working there. She was a talented witch and wanted to accomplish more than mountains of completed requests and forms.

Resuming the topic after silence had fallen among them, Harry said, "He didn't look well."

"Huh?"

"Snape. Came down late. Moved slow and not much. Sat and barely ate anything. And left early."

Ginny said, "And apparently you couldn't take your eyes off of him. So he got the attention he wanted."

"He wasn't seeking attention," Harry replied. "I mean look at how quiet he was. He's the headmaster but it's more like he was just there. Slughorn had way more to say about how important he was during the battle and the whole defeat of Voldemort thing. Like Dumbledore only trusted him with the plan. And we know he didn't trust Slughorn with anything."

"Prof. Slughorn gave you credit, Harry," Ginny said.

"Well yeah, but when you think of how much –"

Ron said, "Give it a break, Harry. Don't go beating yourself up over Snape again. How were we supposed to guess he was still alive. He looked pretty dead to me. And we were awfully busy with winning and all that."

"And even Snape isn't on your back about it," Ginny said. "He knows he can't complain because he should have ended up in Azkaban. If you hadn't put in a good word for him."

After retrieving the children and patiently listening to Molly's report including Rose's flaws that could stand to be corrected (Molly always went easier on Hugo), Hermione was glad to finally call it a day and go to bed.

Her mind had quieted by the time Ron joined her after a shower.

Hermione's nose picked up on it before he even touched her. The cologne Molly gave him for Christmas for the past five years.

"Not tonight, Ron."

"What's wrong?"

"Nothing. I'm too tired."

"Tired? All you have to do is lie on your back." His fingers were sliding up and down her slit.

"No, Ron."

"I'll be quick."

"You always are," Hermione complained.

"You just said you were tired."

But he didn't stop what he was doing, until he got what he wanted.

"See, all done," he said as he rolled off her.

Hermione pulled the hem of her nightgown from where he left it above her bared breasts to below her knees, where she preferred it.


	2. Chapter 2 - December 24, 2009

Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter, nor any of the characters from the books or movies. I do not make any money from the writing of this story.

December 24, 2009, a Thursday

Hermione was used to the traditional Christmas Eve dinner with all the Weasleys and their extended family at the Burrow. It was nice to have family traditions, and it gave them an excuse to see all the other cousins and children.

Her parents had their Christmas family dinner tomorrow night, and Ron had repeated his dislike for it over the years. It was only the six of them. And rather than goofing around with his brothers, Hermione expected him to behave like an adult for the few hours they were under her parents' roof. It wasn't too much for her to ask. Really, Ron was supposed to be a 29 year-old auror. Not the office clown she found whenever she stopped by his disorganized desk.

She tried to help him and put in plenty of hours over the years on evenings and weekends to get him caught up on his caseload. Hermione didn't understand how Ron fell so far behind. He didn't have many cases and the paperwork wasn't difficult. But it needed to be completed and turned in, especially if someone was sitting in a cell waiting.

But Ron didn't work for Hermione. He worked under Harry. And Harry took care of Ron and covered for him, somewhat. Harry wouldn't write up Ron's reports for him, but he gave him more time and suggested ways Ron could phrase things to get a desired result, without fabrication. Hermione was proud of how Harry insisted that they stick to the facts.

Hermione flooed with Rose, and Ron held Hugo's hand after them.

The Burrow was already noisy and crowded when they arrived. The party was already underway even though they arrived no more than ten minutes after the stated start time.

The seating for dinner wound through the house around a magically extended table that could not be contained in the kitchen alone. And some of the chairs were safe and others – maybe not. One year, Hermione's trousers were soaked with very warm gravy from an intermittent geyser within her chair.

Before sitting, she cast _finite incantatum_ at a chair for herself, and two at the child's table for Rose and Hugo. Ron still laughed years later about her 'poopie pants' so he was on his own. He found it so funny and brought it up so often that Hermione suspected it was him that had pranked her chair.

What she wanted to do tonight was talk to Teddy. He had started Hogwarts in September. The Weasley family lightly mocked him for getting sorted into Hufflepuff, but Hermione didn't feel that was a bad thing. Tonks had been a Hufflepuff. And what if some of this generation of Weasleys didn't get sorted into Gryffindor?

She looked at her own children. They were toddlers and too young for her to know how brave they'd be, but Hermione hoped they'd grow up to think before acting. Even if that meant they couldn't be Gryffindors.

Although Teddy had red hair for the evening, there was a brief round of Hufflepuff mocking. Once that was over, Hermione began her questions for Teddy about his teachers.

Many teachers Hermione remembered from her years at Hogwarts. Even her seventh year Defense Against the Dark Arts teacher was still there, Nelly Nuttley. She was a former member of the Department of Magical Law Enforcement.

Teddy liked Professor Longbottom. Neville had given being an auror a try, but found it wasn't for him. She didn't know how Neville got a position, even if it was Herbology, from Severus Snape. But he was teaching and married to Hannah Abbott, who was the landlady at the Leaky Cauldron now.

He wasn't fond of Potions or Prof. Accrington. Teddy said she was young, compared to a lot of the other teachers. Hermione tried to get more information out of Teddy regarding the curriculum, but since he was only a first year, he was only beginning the basics.

All she knew was there were significantly less OWLs and NEWTs scored at Hogwarts since Prof. Slughorn resumed his position and it had not rebounded after he retired a second time. Hermione didn't understand why Prof. Snape would allow potions education to slide to such an extent at Hogwarts while he was headmaster.

Ron said, "Stop bothering him about Potions."

"Ron, there's been such a drop in OWLs and NEWTs since Prof. Snape stopped teaching, I was trying to figure out if it's something the teacher is not doing."

"What about Slughorn?"

"Prof. Slughorn was part of it. Within two years of him resuming teaching potions, the number of OWLs and NEWTs plummeted."

Ron shook his head. "It was He Who Must Not Be Named, Hermione. Not Slughorn. He was a much better teacher than Snape."

"You're bringing personalities into it, Ron."

"That class was a nightmare."

"Why?" Teddy asked.

Ron explained, "It was the Slytherins. And down in the dungeons. And Snape was always taking points and yelling at us."

"How could Prof. Snape yell?" Teddy said.

"He used to," Ron assured him. "Before his throat got ripped out."

Hermione said, "We're eating, Ron."

"You're the one that brought it up. I don't want to talk about that git."

Teddy wasn't done yet. "Wasn't Prof. Snape hurt protecting Harry?"

"Yeah, but …" Ron shrugged. " … he wasn't … I mean it's not like he threw himself bodily in front of us or anything."

Hermione recalled things differently. "Ron, Prof. Snape did put himself between us and Teddy's dad during the full moon. Your dad was pretty close to us, Teddy, and we were lucky no one got bit."

"Harry's told me a little about that. He's always said Prof. Snape was, I mean is, brave."

Ron dismissed that with a screwed-up face. "He's a Slytherin. If no one was watching-"

"You're an idiot, Ron." Hermione did not like the lasting house rivalries, and there were plenty of times no one was watching Severus Snape.

"Hey!"

"I'm trying to find out if Hogwarts is the right school for Hugo and Rose. Perhaps with Prof. Snape so unwell, and test scores dropping -"

"Oi," Ron exclaimed. "They're going to Hogwarts. There's no way my kids are going to – where would you send them? Beauxbatons?"

"Perhaps. I think -"

"They're not going to go there. Beauxbatons is shite."

While Ron exclaiming his views on other magical schools, there was a lull in the noise level so every Weasley, including Bill's wife Fleur heard him clearly. She sniffed disdainfully, while Bill shook his head.

"What?" Ron demanded. "Hogwarts if free because we live here."

"Nothing, Ron," Hermione muttered. Ron loved free. Especially free drinks, free food, and anything else that was free because he was a hero.

"By the way, when are you going to change your last name to Weasley? You can't be Granger once the the kids go to Hogwarts."

Hermione gasped. "Not now, Ron." She had already discussed this at length with Ron, and a Weasley family dinner was not the place to revisit her decision.

"Why not?"

"Because I said so," she snarled.


	3. Chapter 3 - May 2, 2012

Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter, nor any of the characters from the books or movies. I do not make any money from the writing of this story.

May 2, 2012, a Wednesday

"Well done, Harry," Hermione said.

"I was suspicious why they wanted to make sure I was at a specific place at a specific time," Harry said, "but I thought it was because it was the anniversary again."

"Head of the Auror department." Hermione beamed at him. She was really proud of Harry's hard work.

Harry ran a hand through his hair. "Yeah."

"Have you given thought to any changes?" she asked.

"Huh? Changes? Um, you mean like promoting Ron?"

Seeing how uncomfortable Harry looked, Hermione quickly answered, "No, no. I meant with policy. Reform."

"Oh. Well, I mean, I've noticed things but with some more training or … I don't want to change things right away. You know."

"Yeah. But if you want to make your mark-"

"I think I've sort of done that," Harry said.

"No, I mean with the aurors. I mean, I guess there's less dark wizards, but maybe they're hiding better, or maybe they figure it's not worth it. Or maybe education, like those drug programs they have in muggle schools. There will be less dark wizards in the future. That would be impressive."

"Um, I don't know. I mean what would I say, I mean I still give a lot of speeches, even though I don't volunteer to."

"But children would be interested in hearing things directly from you, Harry. They look up to you."

"Uh … I don't know. I mean where would I do that?"

"Hogwarts."

Harry looked aghast.

"I don't mean teach Defense Against the Dark Arts, but see if you can stop once a year or so and-"

"Snape's still headmaster."

"He doesn't hate you."

Harry's eyebrows raised. "Have you ever heard him say otherwise?"

"It was an act," Hermione reassured him. "He had to keep people fooled."

"That doesn't mean he _likes_ me."

Hermione paused before speculating aloud. "I don't think Prof. Snape has many friends."

"Or any." Harry then changed it to, "I mean I'm sure there's a few people."

"Harry."

"And Neville," Harry added.

"Huh?"

"You would never have thought that Neville would be working with Prof. Snape. Ever."


	4. Chapter 4 - April 2, 2013

Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter, nor any of the characters from the books or movies. I do not make any money from the writing of this story.

April 2, 2013, a Tuesday

"Just one more month," Ron said.

"What's in a month?" Hermione asked before thinking. Oh, the 15th anniversary of the Battle of Hogwarts. Was something special planned? She couldn't recall.

"My promotion."

"Oh?"

"Yeah, I figure Harry would promote me on the anniversary of the day he got promoted. You know, to commemorate the Battle of Hogwarts."

"You figure? Do you know for sure?"

"We've been best friends forever."

"But you're an auror," Hermione said.

"Yeah?"

"You shouldn't be promoted because of friendship."

"And you've been promoted so often because of hard work?"

Hermione said, "It's not the same. I set out to accomplish things, and what I want to get done isn't always popular."

"But it's not because you have no friends at work?"

"I have friends. And in case you forgot, you work in the same building."

Ron crowed, "How could I forget? You're always waltzing into my office and telling me it's a mess."

"You had a full container of curry behind your chair."

"It was leftover from uh …"

"January."

Ron muttered, "It couldn't have been that old. Anyway, I was thinking with the pay bump, maybe we could get back to work on having more kids."

"Get back to work?" Hermione repeated.

"Yeah, I mean you said that-"

"Remind me what I said," Hermione dared her husband.

"Well Harry's got three, and my mother-"

"Don't go there. I don't want to give birth to a quidditch team."

"Don't talk about my mother that way!"

Hermione gritted her teeth. "I didn't bring her into the conversation."

"I'm going out," Ron said, grabbing his jacket and broom.

"Great," Hermione responded. She'd check the kids' homework and get them ready for bed. It wasn't as if Ron was any help with those things. The only math he could handle were quidditch scores.


	5. Chapter 5 - June 27, 2013

Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter, nor any of the characters from the books or movies. I do not make any money from the writing of this story.

June 27, 2013, a Thursday

Coming back to the Ministry, Hermione crossed the lobby and saw a familiar face.

"Hannah," she called out.

The blonde woman paused, looking about till she saw Hermione. She waved and when Hermione got closer, Hannah said, "Oh, hi. I forget how many people work here."

"Yeah," Hermione agreed. "What brings you to the Ministry?" As far as Hermione knew, Hannah was the landlady at the Leaky Cauldron, but it had been a while since she spoke to Neville.

"Well I wrote to get the requirements for a license and I wasn't sure what my answer said, so I thought if I asked in person, they'd respond without copying the text from some medieval law or something."

"For the Leaky Cauldron?" Hermione suggested.

"No, I'm not doing that any more. Even with a wand some of the mess that guests left in rooms … I went back to school to finish my training as a Healer."

"Oh? I mean wow," Hermione said. "That's great."

"Thanks. I feel I have more to contribute. And Neville's behind me 110%."

"Of course," Hermione said. "Is Neville here?"

"No, he's got some greenhouse to rearrange or something. I'll see later when I go up to Hogwarts. He said he didn't need my help, but the two of us together can get it done in half the time."

"That's so nice. Neville's liking his job?"

"Like? He loves it. Maybe … oh, never mind. There's plenty of time to think about where I'll work after I've finished school."

"Not St. Mungo's?"

"Possibly, but then I'll still be in London and Neville will be at Hogwarts most of the year."

Hermione thought Hannah should have given that more thought before training as a Healer. She was a firm believer in having a plan. She suggested, "Perhaps you could work in Hogsmeade?"

"Maybe. I still have a year."

Hermione nodded, then asked, "Is everyone at Hogwarts fine?"

"Yeah, I guess. It's summer break so a lot of them leave."

"But Neville's still there?"

"He could let house elves do things, but Neville likes getting his hands dirty."

"And Hagrid?"

"Oh sure. Hagrid takes a holiday in France now and then, but he's usually at the school. And Mr. Filch is still there."

"And no one else?"

Hannah's mouth twisted as she thought, before she said, "Well, I think Prof. Snape is always at the castle because he needs house elves. But he doesn't go down to the greenhouse and Neville certainly isn't dropping in on him in the Head's office."

"Neville's avoiding him?"

"No, it's just that they have nothing to chat about over tea. You know Prof. Snape. Would he talk about the weather, people, or even quidditch scores? No."

"No," Hermione agreed. She imagined Prof. Snape would talk about important things. She felt sad thinking that there was so much Prof. Snape knew and probably could even still do, if it weren't for his injuries.

"I have to get going," Hannah said. "I'm going to surprise Neville with lunch."

"That's sweet. It was good seeing you."

When Hermione got to her office, she pushed some paperwork around but her mind was on other things.


	6. Chapter 6 - April 12, 2014

April 12, 2014, a Saturday

It was a beautiful Saturday so Hermione suggested, "We should get outside and clean up the garden today."

"Today?" Ron repeated.

"Sure. Fresh air. Sunshine."

"Put the kids to work. It builds character."

"But they'd also like to spend time with you."

"I got things to do. George needs me."

"But … why didn't you say something yesterday? When did this come up?"

"Are you saying I'm lying?" Ron asked. Besides glaring at Hermione over the breakfast table, he took a turn staring at Rose and then Hugo.

"No, but does he need help in the shop today?" Hermione thought George was doing very well, and he had a lot of people that wanted to work there.

"It's a _family_ business."

"We're family too, dad," Rose said.

Hugo asked, "Can I go to Diagon Alley?"

"Just stay here and help your mother degnome or whatever she wants."

"We don't have gnomes," Hermione said.

"I don't care," Ron said. "I don't want to spend my day off gardening."

"Okay," Hermione said. Ron complained about Hermione working and the condition of the house, yard, and kids. But he didn't do a tenth of what Hermione did around here. "While you're in Diagon Alley –"

"No, you can get whatever you want on your lunch during the week."

"Ron –"

"You work in an office doing nothing but writing memos all day. I'm an auror. My life's on the line every day, Hermione."

"Where's this coming from?"

"Somebody's trying to kill you?" Rose asked.

Hermione answered quickly, "Not most of the time."

Hugo asked, "Isn't Harry with you?"

Ron snarled. "No, he's the boss. Let _Harry_ help you with your garden. You probably got the whole thing planned with color-coded flower beds."

"No," Hermione said as Ron stood up. "I wanted to start with some cleaning."

Ron huffed and grabbed his cloak from a peg near the door.

"You're leaving already? It's early."

"I gotta help stock shelves."

"What?" Hermione was getting suspicious. School was still in session, and Ron hadn't told her about any new products at the store. Why were there emptied shelves and not enough help?

"Don't got time." Ron opened the door and left.

Hermione looked down and noticed Ron left most of his breakfast uneaten. Now she knew something was up.

"Come on, guys," Hermione urged. "If we finish early out here, we can go to Diagon Alley too."

"Yay!"

With wand in hand, there was no way Hermione and her children wouldn't be flooing to Diagon Alley in a couple hours and have a well-tended yard, ready for whatever annuals and other new plants Hermione chose this year. Perhaps Neville could recommend something exotic, yet hardy enough for England and easy to care for.

By the time they were done, Hermione was pleased with the way everything turned out. She needed to look up some mulch spells though.

While she had worked this morning, Hermione has given her thought of checking up on Ron some consideration. They couldn't head right to Weasley's Wizard Wheezes, or Ron might get upset thinking she had rushed to check up on him. So they went to the book store, Flourish and Blotts, to load her arms with purchases before heading over to the joke shop to see if Ron had time for lunch.

Hermione, Rose and Hugo went to the familiar shop at 93 Diagon Alley. They had been frequent visitors to Weasley Wizard Wheezes for years.

"Hello, Verity," Hermione greeted George's long-time, pale-haired shop assistant at the counter. "Is Ron here?"

"Ron? No. But the other Mr. Weasley, George, is up-"

"No, that's okay. I wasn't here to see George. Um, was Ron here earlier?"

"No."

Running out of ideas, Hermione tried, "Have you been here since the shop opened this morning?"

"I did step out for lunch. Just got back 'bout ten minutes ago."

"Oh."

"Mom, can I have –" Rose asked and Hermione turned to see what her daughter found.


	7. Chapter 7 - July 11, 2014

Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter, nor any of the characters from the books or movies. I do not make any money from the writing of this story.

July 11, 2014, a Friday

They got a good portkey time for the quidditch world cup so they wouldn't have to camp in the Patagonian desert for days.

Harry and Ginny arrived earlier with their children because Ginny was reporting on the match.

While Ron pressed the flesh and posed with photographs with their former school mates from Hogwarts, Hermione removed Hugo and Rose from the crush of people pressing in around them. They all wanted to see Harry – 'The Chosen One' - and his friends.

Even though Hermione was one of Harry's friends, it was starting to get dangerous, especially since no one seemed to be paying attention to the children as they tried to inch closer for a better look.

Hermione was able to get into the Bulgarian team tent and introduce her children to Viktor Krum. Although she was a married woman now, Hermione thought Viktor looked even better at 38, than he had as the Durmstrang Tri-Wizard champion. Maybe Hermione was attracted by his still-stern look, or his non-thinning, thick head of close-cropped hair, or his solid, athletic look without a trace of a potbelly.

After tearing herself away from both Viktor and fanciful and frankly pretty silly thoughts of 'what-if', Hermione and her children shopped the concessions before heading up to their seats in the Box 2 of the VIP section.

Ron wasn't there yet, but Neville and Hannah were.

"Bulgaria?" Neville said. "What a surprise."

"I thought they were the underdogs," Hermione answered, unsure if Neville meant to hint there was something more to the days when Viktor was more of a pen pal than anything else.

Hannah said, "Of course. We all love an underdog."

Rose said, "My cousin, Al, is a huge Gonçalo Flores fan. Even though I'm wearing red for Bulgaria, I hope Flores scores today. Al would really like that." She was referring to one of the Brazilian Chasers.

"How old is Al now?" Hannah asked.

Neville automatically answered, "Eight." Albus Severus was his godson, and Neville took the responsibility seriously.

"Are either of you entering Hogwarts this year?" Hannah asked the children.

Rose said, "We're too young. But James will be going next September." James was Harry's oldest.

"Darn it," Hannah answered. "I'm going to be apprenticing at Hogwarts with Madame Pomfrey, and I thought it would be nice to know some of the children there."

"Teddy and Victoire go to Hogwarts," Hugo said.

"That's right," Hannah answered. "Did Fleur name her daughter after Krum?"

"Huh?" popped out of Hermione's mouth. "No, it means victory, because Victoire was born on May 2nd."

Hannah nodded.

Hermione asked, "So you'll both be at Hogwarts?"

"Yeah, can you believe it?" Hannah said. "Madame Pomfrey wants to retire next year and I was just finished up the book-learning part of my Healer training."

"Hannah could be the new school matron," Neville added.

"Is that what you want?" Hermione asked.

"Well, it's not all runny noses and all," Hannah said. "You remember how kids can do accidental magic, besides all the mean things they do to each other? It'll be a challenge."

Hermione agreed, "Definitely."

"I'll say," Neville added. "Hermione put me in a Full Body-Bind Curse first year."

Both Hugo and Rose stared at their mother.

"There was a reason," Hermione said.

"Yeah," Rose answered. "Do as I say, not as I do."

Neville sang, "Hermione Granger breaking the rules."

Hannah laughed.

"It was important," Hermione muttered. "That's the only time you're allowed to break rules. If someone's in danger."

"If I recall correctly, you had to get past me to get into danger."

Since Neville told the truth, Hermione didn't respond. She considered how great it would be to work at Hogwarts, and have access to the entire library, restricted section and all, as an adult. But if she were teaching, or even the school matron as Hannah hoped to be, Hermione wouldn't make and leave her mark on the wizarding world unless she did independent research. Make an earth shattering discovery. Or changed things for the better like she accomplished for the house elves. But what field? Healing was a good one. Hermione knew quite a bit already, but could certainly learn more. Changing lives was big, but saving them would be bigger. Both Prof. McGonagall and Prof. Flitwick were getting old; maybe they would retire soon and if Hermione let them know of her interest …

Her racing thoughts about future possibilities were interrupted as others entered their VIP box, and Ron eventually arrived with Harry and his children. He was shouting at reporters and photographers to give Harry's kids room.

Al wore green. Harry, James and Lily sported Bulgarian red.

Ron frowned at his family. "Cheering for Vicky? And why did you buy two pairs of omnioculars? Rose and Hugo could share."

"C'mon dad," Hugo said. "We're in Argentina and the stands are full of people wearing green."

"You're cheering for the losing side. I already told Harry that he was being sentimental. Bulgaria doesn't stand a chance. You can replay it all you want on those things, but they still won't win."

If it was okay for Harry to be sentimental and cheer for Krum and Bulgaria, Hermione supposed Ron felt the same about her as he muttered about ten galleons for omnioculars.

Ron was full of praise for Brazil's play, until Bulgaria won when their too-old-for-a-seeker who came out of retirement, Viktor Krum, caught the snitch.


	8. Chapter 8 - July 14, 2015

Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter, nor any of the characters from the books or movies. I do not make any money from the writing of this story.

July 14, 2015, a Tuesday

After dinner but before everyone left the table, Hermione held up a letter. "I've been accepted."

"What?" Ron asked.

"Healer training."

"Since when?" Ron sputtered. "Why?"

"You said it yourself, Ron. I'm not going to get ahead at the Ministry. I want to make a difference and if I can't do it legislatively, then I'll save lives."

"Yeah," Rose added, showing her approval.

"What?" Ron repeated.

"I applied and I'll start in September."

"But what about your job?"

"We'll be poor?" Hugo asked.

"No," Hermione said. "We have some money saved, and I was going to see if I could do some other work while studying."

"No," Ron said.

"Ron, you're going to get a promotion any day, right? And I didn't want to wait another year."

"But you didn't ask me."

"I don't need your permission, Ron."

"Are you two fighting?" Rose asked.

"No," both Ron and Hermione immediately answered.

"Your mother, Hermione _Granger_ , is putting her career ahead of her family," Ron stated calmly while his ears and neck turned red.

"I am trying to make the world a better place. And if I can't do that at the Ministry, I'll do it elsewhere."

"You might as well," Ron agreed. "It hasn't been easy working in the same building as you."

"Huh?"

"You know – the way you come up to my office and belittle me. Nothing's good enough for you."

"I don't belittle you."

"With your suggestions on how if I stacked paper a different way, I might get some work done. If I had a better filing system, if I had some stoppered bottles of ink, if I didn't sharpen my quills and throw them like darts into the ceiling …"

Both Rose and Hugo looked at their father. He was describing their mother and things she could say, but without quills or ink how was he doing any work?

"Ron," Hermione said, "you're exaggerating."

"No, I'm not."

"You could get a whole lot more done, Ron, if you weren't playing jokes or showing off George's new products."

"George's? Like they're George's alone? I help him out sometimes, you know."

"I know," Hermione responded. She had been the unsuspecting victim of multiple tests.

"You just want to relive your glory days as a student," Ron said. He stuck an arm in the air and waved his hand.

"No I don't, Ron."

"Yeah, you are a bit older now. You shouldn't wear your skirt that short."

"Oh," Rose warned.

"I did not wear short skirts! They were regulation uniform length."


	9. Chapter 9 - August 9, 2015

Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter, nor any of the characters from the books or movies. I do not make any money from the writing of this story.

August 9, 2015, a Sunday

Things got worse at home making it almost impossible for Hermione when Ron was there.

Even though Hermione promised herself she wouldn't do it, she did. And ended up at Harry's house, without Ron knowing.

Harry answered the door, and said, "What's up, Hermione?" There was a crash behind him and he turned his head and yelled, "Leave Al alone!"

"Did I come at a bad time?"

"Not really."

"Can I come in then?"

"Sure."

"How's Rose and Hugo?"

"Fine. They're with Molly. Ron went out earlier." Ron had told Hermione that he was helping George, but the few times she had checked, Ron had not been at Weasley Wizard Wheezes. It was her own stubbornness that kept her from asking. What if Ron … what if Ron were doing something that would ruin their marriage? That's what Hermione didn't want to know. If she knew, then she'd have to do something. Like take action. Instead, she showed up at Harry's. And Ron wasn't here either.

"Uh huh," Harry said as he led Hermione into the lounge. "Um, do you want something to drink?"

"That's all right. I wanted to talk to you about Ron's promotion."

"Uh …"

"I know," Hermione said. "Can't rush things, but Ron's been talking about it for so long that I went ahead and started healer training and … if there's anything that can be done to … you know."

"This is awkward," Harry said. He sat, rested his elbows on his knees and looked at his hands.

"Is it?" Hermione asked.

"Yeah, because Ron keeps hinting and I tell him what he needs to do, but he doesn't seem to get around to doing it."

"Oh."

"Yeah. 'Oh.' So you can see my position? I can't promote someone who disappears half the day and only does a fraction of the work of anyone else just because he's my friend."

"Certainly," Hermione agreed. This was embarrassing. Had Ron gotten worse since she left the Ministry? Or had he always been this inept, and she didn't see it? She didn't want to see it. She didn't want to hear it, even if it was Harry telling her.

"I'm so glad that you understand, Hermione. Ron doesn't seem to get it."

"Uh huh." Hermione nodded because this was one of the few times when words failed her. In fact, she preferred not to speak right now because Harry knew how she could ramble on when she was nervous.

"I mean I've talked to Ginny, but she says Ron's always been this way. He hopes. A lot. And if I'm too harsh, Ron walks out or does something stupid."

Hermione put a slight smile on her face as she nodded again. Ginny knew. Who else knew? Hermione didn't want anyone to know. In fact, she wanted to deny it. Ron could do the job. She knew he could. Why didn't he?

"You sure I can't get you anything?"

"Oh no," Hermione faintly protested. She added, "I was at the Burrow for lunch."

Harry weakly smiled at her and the silence lengthened.

"So how are your children?" Hermione said. "Was someone picking on Al?"

"Uh no, not really. They're okay. Al likes to read and James wants to do other things."

"James, uh, Hogwarts in a couple weeks?"

"Yes," Harry agreed.

"Is he looking forward to it?"

"In a way. He's gotten some mixed messages from his uncles."

"Oh?"

"I've been to the school a couple times in the past year. Dawlish is teaching Defense now. He's … better than Binns. I think he was _confund_ ed a lot during the war. Oh, but it was you that suggested I … never mind. Hogwarts is Hogwarts. Not much has changed. Other than um, Dawlish, let's see, there's that new potions mistress, Accrington, but I don't think she's going to last for years. I think she rubs Snape the wrong way."

"Did he say something?"

"No, I noticed him looking at her one time that I stayed for dinner."

"Like the looks he gives you?"

"No, those are special. With a sneer, or more like a half-hearted one now since he … um, what was I talking about. Oh yeah, James. Yeah, he's going to get a sneer at the very least. And I have little doubt he'll be sorted into Gryffindor so he'll be … yeah, he won't be a favorite of Snape's."

Hermione chuckled. To keep the subject from going back to Ron, she suggested, "Al and Lily?"

"They have time. And maybe they won't provoke Snape by getting sorted into Gryffindor."

"So he's better?" Hermione thought it sounded like Prof. Snape's health had improved if Harry made it sound like he would be alive and still headmaster for all his children to be sorted.

"Oh." Harry slumped a moment before taking a deep breath, "Maybe better's not the right word. I don't think he's worse or at least he's not … maybe the same, you know? I can't tell. Maybe he's tired all the time or something."

"You haven't talked to him?"

"Not really," Harry admitted. "I mean, what do I really have to talk with him about … I mean something that he'd want to talk about?"

Hermione nodded. She couldn't imagine them having common interests, but they should at least make an effort to communicate. Harry and Prof. Snape shared something, even though for both of them it was traumatic in different ways.


	10. Chapter 10 - December 24, 2015

Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter, nor any of the characters from the books or movies. I do not make any money from the writing of this story.

December 24, 2015, a Thursday

James, Harry's son, was the star of their holiday dinner at the Burrow.

They already knew from Harry and Ginny that their eldest was sorted into Gryffindor.

Ron teased him, "Not on the quidditch team yet? Your father was playing for Gryffindor first year. First month."

"I'll be playing soon enough," James said, clearly full of himself. "Gryffindor doesn't have a winning team so it's clear they need me. Then World Cup, maybe 2018, but definitely 2022."

"I think you're getting ahead of yourself," Harry said.

"What? I'll play better than you or mom, and definitely better than uncle Ron."

"Oi!" Ron exclaimed in disagreement.

"Keeper's easy," James said.

"There's no way you could defend against your mom, if you were playing keeper," Ron said.

Ginny said, "Neither could you."

"Can we talk about something other than quidditch?" Hermione asked. "What about your classes? Do you have any homework over the holiday or need help studying?"

"No, I got it. First year's easy."

"Don't get cocky," Harry said. "It's only because you were raised in a wizarding household. It's going to get harder."

"Just remember," Ron said, "it's levi-ee-OH-sah."

James rolled his eyes.

"So what's your favorite subject?" Hermione asked.

"Besides flying? Uh, maybe charms. I think that's where I'm going to learn the useful stuff, but I wish there was more spells I could use now, to do something, rather than stupid stuff."

She asked, "Professor Flitwick's you're favorite?"

"No, not the teacher. And dad said he was some kind of dueling champ. He hasn't dueled anyone since I've been there."

Harry laughed. "After one meeting of a dueling club when we were second years, there was no real dueling at school."

"Why'd they get rid of it?" James asked.

"Because Snape sent the other teacher flying," Harry answered quickly.

Hermione had been about to answer about the snake, but figured Harry would prefer his son not know everything about his school days.

"Snape? The headmaster?" James asked.

"He taught potions then," Harry said.

Ron added fondly, "I can still see Lockhart sliding down the wall. If only I had ominoculars then."

James repeated, " _Snape_?"

"Yes, Prof. Snape," Harry said, irritation evident. "He can outduel most anyone, or probably two, three, or four anyones, if they're not particularly good."

"You're pulling my leg."

"Hogwarts instructors are the best," Hermione said. "We saw what they could do years ago during the Battle of Hogwarts. They don't need to prove anything to you."

"Oh yeah? Who would win in a duel – Snape or dad?"

Harry said, "Other than me not wanting to duel anyone? I'm pretty sure Prof. Snape can beat me. He uses his wand in his right hand. The injury to his left shoulder isn't going to give me an advantage. I've never seen anyone cast a shield charm faster. And repeatedly. It's like he was toying with me. Actually come to think of it, he _was_ toying with me. I was such an impulsive idiot."

"But you beat Voldemort."

"Sometimes the impulsive idiot wins," Harry commented with a shrug.

"But you're an auror. The boss of the aurors."

"Snape's not a dark wizard," Harry said.

Ginny made a scoffing noise.

"Dad wouldn't have named me after a dark wizard," Al said.

"At least you have that right," Ginny said. "I still don't like your middle name. And never will. Even though I'll begrudgingly admit Snape is a war hero. But you'll always be my Al."


	11. Chapter 11 - December 25, 2015

Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter, nor any of the characters from the books or movies. I do not make any money from the writing of this story.

December 25, 2015, a Friday

Hugo and Rose were still young enough to cause a ruckus on Christmas morning as they found their gifts waiting for them.

Hermione had been frugal but creative. And they received enough gifts from the Weasley family to add quantity in addition to the annual Weasley Christmas sweaters. Rose always got something rose-colored. This year it was the 'R', hem, neckline and cuffs on a cornflower-blue sweater.

Hugo's sweater was an explosion of primary colors. Molly made no secret that Hugo may be a favorite of hers, but without actually saying anything.

"Hey, I found another one," Hugo yelled when he got downstairs for a pre-breakfast snack.

The presents that had magically appeared from the family and friends had been in their bedrooms upstairs, and Hermione was sure she left all the presents she had bought and wrapped upstairs too. By process of elimination, this was something from Ron – possibly for her, since he left the gift-buying for the children mostly to her.

Hermione headed downstairs to make Christmas breakfast for her family with a smile on her face. She shouldn't have underestimated Ron. He may be moody about her returning to school, but they loved each other and would overcome any obstacle as a family.

Except there was something definitely wrong with the brown paper-wrapped package that Hugo held aloft at the bottom of the stairs. It was broom-shaped. As broom-shaped as the Firebolt Harry received for Christmas one year at Hogwarts.

Hermione didn't want a broom.

Hermione didn't need a broom.

And if Ron picked that broom out, it would not be a practical broom and would be too unsafe for Hugo. Or Rose.

And besides, neither of their children needed a broom either.

Hadn't she talked to Ron about money?

Hadn't he been listening?

Dreading the reply, Hermione asked anyway, "Oh what could it be? Who is it for?"

"It has dad's name on it," Hugo said. "I bet it's a broom."

Why would someone be buying a broom for Ron? Ron had a couple brooms already. He didn't need another one.

Hermione suspected George. He was the least practical out of Ron's brothers. And the most able to afford frivolous gifts.

But hadn't Ron already received a gift from George? There were a lot of new 'joke' products upstairs. Those had to be from George. Was George giving Ron something extra for lending a hand around the shop, even though Hermione never caught Ron physically there when she dropped by Weasley Wizarding Wheezes?

"Oh, wow!" Ron pushed past Hermione to hurry down the stairs to retrieve his gift.

Hermione wasn't sure if Ron was surprised or not. He seemed excited as he ripped into the paper and yelled, "A Twigger 120."

She had heard of the Twigger brand, or was it model, when the boys were talking brooms and quidditch, but Hermione had no idea if it was good or not. From Ron's reaction, she guessed it was good.

Ron raising it over his head and saying "Just what I wanted!" made Hermione somewhat suspicious. Had he told George? If it's the broom Ron really wanted, she doubted it was cheap. Ron had expensive tastes when it came to brooms.

Hermione smiled at him and headed into the kitchen to make breakfast as Ron started reciting all the features to the kids. Or at least Hugo. Rose kind of twirled at the top of the stairs for a long moment, then headed back to her room.

Ron was between Hugo and the stairs, preventing Hugo from returning to his presents as he discussed braking and cushioning charms, and the all-important acceleration of the Twigger 120. And then he compared the Twigger 120 to comparable brooms, but they weren't as good as the Twigger 120 for one reason or another.

It wasn't until later, when the children were busy, and they were alone in their bedroom getting ready for Christmas dinner at Hermione's parents, that Hermione asked Ron, "Who sent you that broom?"

"It was a gift to myself."

"Ron-"

"I work hard. It's my money. If you can live your dream, why can't I live mine?"

"But a broom? Ron-"

"No, Hermione. Why do I have to keep making sacrifices? Huh? I think it's time that I took care of me."

Hermione stared at him. "Take care of you? Who cooks your food? Who washes your clothes? Who-"

"You have to do that because you're my wife."

"I don't have to do anything because I'm your wife."

"That's for sure," Ron accused.

"What's that mean?"

"How come other husbands get sex almost every day? Sometimes twice! With you, I need to make an appointment so you can put a color-coded note in your study planner."

"That's not true."

"And you just laid there last night."

"I was tired. I was busy all day getting ready for dinner at your parents, then dinner was a big deal, and we stayed later than we planned."

"I'm tired of the excuses. I have needs."

"You _need_ another broom?"

"A guy's gotta do something with his free time to unwind. Especially when he has a frigid wife."

"Fri- I am not distant, Ron. I have feelings and my own … turn-ons." Hermione had almost said 'needs' and the last thing she wanted to do was repeat Ron's immature argument back to him.

"Like what? A good book?"

"Not necessarily a book, but adult conversation. You don't take an interest in-"

"In what? Healing? The latest Transfiguration article with squiggly diagrams?"

"I take an interest in your work. What cases you're working on."

"That's work. I don't want to talk about work when I'm not at work."

"But it could help if you spent a little more time working out-"

"Who have you been talking to? Harry? Did Harry tell you I wasn't working hard enough?"

"No. No, but sometimes you might need a sounding board to hear your ideas to help you get motivated."

"Motivated? How am I supposed to be motivated when I get passed over for promotion year after year by my best friend who's playing office politics, rather than promoting one of his best aurors?"

"Have you – I mean not pester Harry, but at least told him how you feel about this?"

"Of course I have. But without me in the field every day, how would it look for the department as a whole? They rely on me so much."

Hermione couldn't believe Ron's opinion of himself. Or that he thought this of Harry. But to deny it to Ron's face would not settle the issue with the broom. She nodded sympathetically. "This is so difficult. I'm sure Harry wouldn't be doing this unless he knew he could count on you. It's a big burden."

"Damn straight."

Hermione nodded again. There wasn't much else she could say without betraying how she really felt.

"I should have been the one promoted over Harry."

"Huh?"

"Harry's got that whole Chosen One thing. What more does he want? It should be my turn."

Hermione hesitated as Ron looked at her expectantly. "I suppose it might be based on a faulty perception. Eventually they'll realize that you … have what it takes."

"But when?" Ron asked. "How long am I supposed to wait?"


	12. Chapter 12 - March 20, 2017

Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter, nor any of the characters from the books or movies. I do not make any money from the writing of this story.

March 20, 2017, a Monday

"I want to live my dream too," Ron said.

"What?" Hermione looked up from studying at their kitchen table. She had already put her children to bed. "How long have you been here?"

"I just got home."

"Oh. So what do you want to do?"

"Live my dream."

Hermione stared at her husband. She thought his dream was to be married to her, _and_ have a lot more children.

When he continued to look expectantly at her, Hermione finally asked, "What is your dream?"

"You're not going to guess?"

"Guess? Um, you've caught some dark wizards?"

"What? No. You're not even trying."

"You're inventing things for George to sell?"

"I already do that."

"Are you getting some kind of glamorous transfer at work? Working with aurors in another country?"

Ron said, "What?"

"Didn't you mention that? Was it the last world cup that you wanted to-"

"No!"

Sensing she wasn't going to guess without insulting Ron, Hermione said, "Just tell me."

"I'm now on the Chudley Cannons."

"The quidditch team?"

"Yup."

"Doing what?"

"Playing keeper, or I will be. I'm the reserve keeper now. It's just a matter of time before I'm not sitting on the bench?"

Hermione sputtered. She didn't know which part to address first. "What about your job?"

"What about it?" His voice climbed as he said, "Why are you the only one allowed to live your dream and be a professional student?"

"I am not a professional student."

"You've been back in school for like five years."

"Not even two."

"That can't be right," Ron muttered, before suggesting, "Study faster."

"And what did Harry say?"

"He'll read the letter I left for him tomorrow."

"Harry doesn't know yet? We could get the letter back. Or treat it like it was a joke."

"No, Harry's holding me back. I'm going to show him. _I'll_ be the professional quidditch player, not him."

"You can't. I mean you're 37, Ron."

"And in my playing prime. I've been practicing a lot. I've never been better."


	13. Chapter 13 - August 22, 2017

Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter, nor any of the characters from the books or movies. I do not make any money from the writing of this story.

August 22, 2017, a Tuesday

"Nope, got practice," Ron said.

"Again? I thought you were off today. Later in the week then?" Hermione asked.

"You can go to Diagon Alley without me."

"But shopping for Rose's school supplies should be the whole family. We can wait till you have a day off."

"Hermione, I need to practice every day if I want to be the starter."

"It's one day, Ron. Or half a day."

"Can't do it. If the Cannons see me as a slacker, they might drop me."

Sometimes, Hermione wished she could drop Ron. And the Chudley Cannons had a lot of nerve calling anyone a slacker. They hadn't won a single game since Ron joined the team as reserve Keeper.

Hermione looked past the goblin who opened her modest-sized vault. She leaned further forward to find the galleons since only sickles and knuts were at the front.

There were no galleons in her vault. Or more precisely, the vault she shared with her husband. What did he do with the close to one hundred galleons that had been in here earlier this month?

Disbelief. Anger. Disappointment. And the growing feeling Ron didn't want to come today and be here when the vault was opened.

What would Ron's explanation be this time? Was this to retaliate for Rose asking for a cat two nights ago at dinner? Knowing they might not have enough money, Hermione had answered that they'd see, maybe for Christmas if Rose was receiving good grades. Ron had firmly said no. No cats.

And now, no money either. Did Ron think Hermione would prioritize buying a cat over books? Or Rose's wand? And what about their regular household expenses?

Hermione gathered up all the sickles and knuts.

She made plans on the ride back to the bank lobby. There were enough quills, ink, and parchment at home.

If Ron still had the money, Rose could have the new school robes Hermione had planned on. If not, Molly had a collection of Hogwarts robes that they could go through. Did Ron even think about that? There hadn't been a lot of Weasley girls in the past, just Ginny. And if Ron thought Hermione would let Rose use a secondhand wand or one that could result in her daughter belching slugs like Ron had second year, he had another thing coming.

Before flooing to the Burrow, Hermione led her children to Weasley Wizard Wheezes.

Since Rose was never deterred, she asked as they passed the menagerie shop, "Can we stop and look at cats?"

"No."

As they entered George's shop, Hugo asked, "Hey, are we getting Rose stink pellets? Can I have –?"

"No."

Seeing all the happy children in the shop buying things for school – even though Hermione suspected every item in here was on Mr. Filch's contraband list – deflated her initial intention to ask George for a loan. When were they going to be able to pay George back? Maybe Rose could borrow books too.

George started with, "Ron's not here."

Hermione guessed she deserved that for all the times she had shown up here looking for Ron, while he was really off playing quidditch. "No, um, Ron and I kind of miscommunicated and he took the money out of our vault that was for Rose's school things. Could I borrow some money to at least get her a wand?"

"My dear sister-in-law, you lie almost as badly as your husband."

"Huh? I just want to borrow some galleons to buy Rose a wand. Really."

"Borrow more money from me when Ron still owes me twenty galleons?"

"I didn't know about that. How about once Rose and Hugo are back in school, I work some hours here at the shop …?" Hermione was trying to think fast, but besides the expected seven or eight galleons for Rose's wand, another twenty could be over a week of work.

"Oh yes, your disapproving looks would really make my products fly off the shelves," George said.

"I'd suggest Ron, but … I'm not sure what his schedule is for the next week or two."

"If you two don't pay me back by December, I'll want Ron to work here for the holidays. There's no quidditch then."

While that sounded reasonable to Hermione, it may not be something Ron would agree to, or if he did, he may not show up. But Ron's the one that got her into this mess, and George should already know how unreliable Ron was. And Hermione really needed this money so answered, "Sure."


	14. Chapter 14 - August 23, 2017

Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter, nor any of the characters from the books or movies. I do not make any money from the writing of this story.

August 23, 2017, a Wednesday

Hermione had waited for Ron to come home, and he finally did just after 3am.

By that time, Hermione wasn't sure if he might be hurt and was relieved he came home, or if he was out late with the team buying them drinks with the money Hermione had saved up for Rose's school supplies.

"Ron, you couldn't say you took the money before we went to Diagon Alley?"

"What?"

"The money for Rose's wand. Rose's books. Rose's robes."

"Mum's got plenty of robes and books. At least you didn't mention a cat."

"You took the money out of our vault to prevent me from getting a cat for Rose? I thought we had talked about possibly getting her one once we saw her grades."

"You talked about it. I don't want a cat."

"Well, I didn't get a cat, and I owe George some money now."

"George? Why did you borrow money from him?"

"Because Rose needed a wand. And we went to the Burrow and I don't know what Victoire did to those uniforms, but they don't look right on Rosie."

Ron answered that with a low, "Oh. Okay. Well, you'll think of something."

"School starts in a week."

"Yeah?"

"Boys don't wear skirts, Ron. I need the money you took."

"Don't have it any more."

"What? What did you spend it on?"

"Why is it my fault? I'm trying to plan a nice surprise for everyone and you got to go ruining it."

"What surprise? Surprising me by cleaning out our vault is not a _nice_ surprise."

"It's ruined. Forget it."

"I don't care. Where's the money?"

"Gone. I already bought a car."

Hermione was horrified. Was Ron going to start collecting all sorts of muggle junk like his father. "What do you need a car for?"

"I learned to drive. Passed my test. You ain't the only one that can learn things."

"What?"

"I learned to drive like a muggle. I thought it would be a nice surprise to drive us to King's Cross next week. But no matter what I do it isn't good enough for you, Hermione."

"You're timing is awful."

"If not now, when? Isn't that what you say to me? Why do you need to come first in this family?"

"You didn't even tell me."

"That's part of being a surprise!"


	15. Chapter 15 - September 1, 2017

Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter, nor any of the characters from the books or movies. I do not make any money from the writing of this story.

September 1, 2017, a Friday

Hermione was both glad of the loan from her parents and worried over Ron spending everything they had on a car. While being able to drive was a practical skill, now was not the time to invest in it. Hermione took matters into her own hands and now had her own bank vault so this wouldn't happen again.

She did allow Ron to drive them to King's Cross in the rain, and they were further delayed while finding someplace to park.

Rose was also happy with brand new robes, rather than those worn for years by other Weasleys. Her daughter didn't want to be pointed out as another Weasley. Red-haired, freckle-faced, and wearing robes that were just this side of see-through. And Hermione didn't want Rosie in Victoire's old skirts since they seemed impossible to lengthen back to regulation length.

If Rose hadn't expressed it with words, Hermione knew how happy her daughter was because she already had her robes on before boarding the train at Platform 9 ¾ .

Their children had met up with Harry's, and Harry didn't seem to be holding a grudge with Ron over quitting. Hermione was glad of that.

Hugo was talking to Al about which house he'd be sorted into when Ron butted in with, "If you're not in Gryffindor, we'll disinherit you. But no pressure."

Rose, of course, looked aghast. She hoped to be a Ravenclaw like her glamorous cousin, Victoire.

Besides affronting Rose, even though Ron's comment was directed at his only son, Hugo, Hermione thought Ron had a lot of nerve talking about inheritance. At the rate he was going, their kids would have to pass a hat to buy Ron a coffin.

Hugo laughed, at least.

Ginny said, "He doesn't mean it."

Hermione nodded. "And it's silly. You can't choose your house."

Ron wasn't paying them any attention because his eyes were fixed on Draco Malfoy and his family. "So that's little Scorpius. Make sure you beat him in every test, Rosie. Thank God you inherited your mother's brains."

"Ron, for heaven's sake, don't try to turn them against each other before they've even started school!"

"You're right, sorry," Ron said. "And it's not going to matter if Snape's headmaster. He'll give icky little Scorpius all the points he needs."

"Hey!" Hermione exclaimed. It would serve Ron right if both of them were sorted into Ravenclaw. And if she remembered correctly, Prof. Dumbledore gave plenty of points to Gryffindor that more than made up for whatever Prof. Snape awarded.

Harry looked at his pocket watch. "It's nearly eleven, you better get on board."

Ginny hugged James. "Give Neville our love."

"Mum, I can't give a professor love."

"But you know Neville …"

James set his mother straight. "Outside, yeah, but at school he's Professor Longbottom, isn't he? I can't walk into Herbology and give him love."

He turned and tried to kick his brother, Al.

James missed but continued moving, heading towards the train. "See you later, Al. Watch out for the thestrals."

"Don't worry about the thestrals," Harry told his youngest son. "They're gentle. You won't be going up to the school in a carriage anyway. You'll be going by boat."

Hermione gave Rose a hug and asked, "Will you write first, or should I?"

"Mom, I gotta write first. You need to know what house I'm in and the names of all my new friends. Then you can write me."

"All right."

Hermione watched them get on the train and waved, like many of the other parents, while Harry and Ron walked beside the train.

She took Hugo's hand since the crowd was shifting towards the exit and her son might get dragged along. They waited for Ron to rejoin them.

"Do you think Rose will be a Gryffindor?" Hugo asked.

"Maybe, but it's okay if she's not."

"What about me?"

"Probably a Gryffindor, but there's still two years for you to grow out of that."

"Won't dad be mad?"

Hermione thought of Ron's arguments. So many were silly. "It's not like he can change it."


	16. Chapter 16 - September 14, 2017

Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter, nor any of the characters from the books or movies. I do not make any money from the writing of this story.

September 14, 2017, a Thursday

Hermione stared at the letter from Prof. McGonagall. She read it again. Then returned to staring at the words that made no sense.

Rosie cheating in transfiguration class? No. It made no sense.

Why would she even think of cheating? First years didn't arrive at Hogwarts ready to transfigure. There was no need to cheat.

Her daughter had been sorted into Gryffindor, much to Ron's satisfaction, so Hermione didn't expect that would lead to cheating in a first year class in the very first month.

She wrote back asking for an appointment. She'd rather go to the school than engage in a prolonged correspondence with Prof. McGonagall. And it was a good enough excuse to visit Hogwarts again. Hermione had fond memories of her old school, despite all the trouble they used to get into. She just hoped that Rosie wasn't in any real trouble.

Hermione received a brief reply back the same day. 11:15 tomorrow morning.


	17. Chapter 17 - September 15, 2017

Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter, nor any of the characters from the books or movies. I do not make any money from the writing of this story.

September 15, 2017, a Friday

It always seemed to be raining every time Hermione visited Hogwarts since she graduated. Actually, it had been raining the day she had graduated too.

She hadn't given it any thought, or might have expected Prof. McGonagall to meet her at the gate, but instead it was Hannah Longbottom with a large, yellow and black umbrella.

Hermione started with an apology. "I'm sorry, Hannah. I got a letter from Prof. McGonagall and felt I should deal with it right away."

"Not a problem. Sometimes I like to get out of the infirmary and take a walk."

"So how's it going? Madam Pomfrey retired?" Hermione walked beside Hannah back to Hogwarts.

"Oh yeah. The infirmary's all mine. At least till tonight if all those kids don't clear out by then."

"What happened?"

"Nothing. They just sort of show up with minor complaints and don't leave. When Prof. Snape stopped by … maybe in March last year and saw all the students, he sorted them quick."

"Oh. Did you get in trouble?"

Hannah laughed. "No, he tests out some pretty foul-tasting potions on them."

"What kind of potions?"

"Dunderhead Draught might be one of them."

"What does it cure?"

"The desire to skive classes."

"Is that a problem?"

"Today's Friday. Most of them will recover by dinner."

"But what does missing classes accomplish? Don't they have to make up the work?"

"Yes, but I doubt they're thinking about that."

"Hmm. How's Neville?"

"Fine. How's Ron?"

Hermione replied what she didn't feel. "Fine."

Ron didn't care about Rosie cheating, except he said he hoped she didn't get caught next time when Hermione told him last night. Wrong answer. Rosie didn't need to cheat or copy. She could get ahead on her own merit. Just like Hermione used to think at the Ministry.

When Hannah didn't say anything further, Hermione stewed over Ron's reaction to Rosie's cheating. Ron's lack of support for anyone other than himself.

"Is it as much fun as you hoped working at Hogwarts?" Hermione asked.

"I wouldn't call it fun. I mean Neville and I … well, we don't do the public displays of affection or anything. We keep it private."

"Of course," Hermione agreed. Hermione had no public displays of affection, and her private ones had pretty much degenerated to what Ron said every time. She just lay there. It had been years since there had been any incentive for her to move. When Ron was done, he was done, even on their honeymoon. And Ron didn't want to hear about anything Hermione 'read'.

Had there ever been any passion between them? Was their marriage simply functional, like a peck of the lips at midnight on New Year's Eve? A box to be checked off, like one boy, one girl?

Hermione sighed. She had Rose. She had Hugo. She wouldn't have them without Ron. But in a way, he was her child too, but the aggravating one.

"Oh right," Hannah said. "A lot of people breathe it in when they come through the doors. Hogwarts."

Hermione smiled at Hannah. Yes, of course that's why she sighed. Hogwarts. She loved Hogwarts. She loved books. She loved learning. She loved many memories formed at this school.

And now, it was her children – they made her happy memories. But now Rosie was at school, and Hugo would join her in less than two years, and then she'd be home alone. Though Hermione was hopeful she'd be working at St. Mungo's. More than hopeful, it was almost guaranteed that she'd be able to obtain a position, but would it even compare to Hogwarts?

Hermione was not going to feel sorry for herself. She needed to approach her problems head-on. She'd take care of Rose, then head home and save her marriage. Somehow. She needed a plan. She needed money. She needed a husband who cared. Or who cared about her and the children more than he did about his 'quidditch career'. When was Ron going to give up on that?

"You okay?" Hannah asked as they were almost at Prof. McGonagall's office.

"Yes," Hermione said.

"It's just you had a look on your face."

"Oh," Hermione responded. She hoped she had looked determined rather than angry. Or sad. "Lot on my mind."

"It'll turn out fine. Your daughter's a first year, and it's only the first month." Hannah left Hermione at Prof. McGonagall's door.

Although Hermione knew Hannah meant it in a positive way that Rosie could turn things around after a rough start, Hermione wasn't feeling the same upbeat, 'oh well' enthusiasm.

And her spirits sank lower entering Prof. McGonagall's office.

Rosie was already seated in a chair in front of the desk. Head down and hands folded in her lap.

Hermione did like the look of the new robes with the Gryffindor lion on them now.

"Have a seat, Mrs. Weasley." Prof. McGonagall indicated the chair next to Rose's.

"It's still Granger, actually." Hermione sat, then wondered if correcting Prof. McGonagall was a bad move.

Prof. McGonagall looked over the top of her square eyeglass frames at her as Hermione sat. Guess not.

"This meeting wasn't necessary, Ms. Granger."

"I just couldn't imagine Rosie cheating. She has no reason to."

"Nonetheless, Miss Weasley had needles hidden within her hem and matchsticks up her sleeve."

Hermione looked to Rose.

Rose shrugged at her. And the quirk of her daughter's mouth while she lifted shoulders reminded Hermione so much of Ron. A look she wanted to slap off his face. Not Rosie's. Hermione did not strike her children.

Hermione asked her daughter, "Well, did you put them there or not?"

"What do you think?"

"I don't know," Hermione admitted. "Did someone tell you to do that? They thought it'd be funny?"

Prof. McGonagall quipped, "I did not find it amusing."

No it wouldn't be funny to normal people, but Hermione married into a family that consisted of pranksters that didn't respect boundaries, other people's clothing, or most other people finding vomit of any substance to be grotesque. Had Hermione ever found their immaturity funny? Ron's immaturity certainly wasn't.

"Who else is in the class?" Hermione asked.

"Pardon?" Prof. McGonagall said.

"We had, I mean Gryffindors, had their classes with another house. Is it still with Ravenclaw?"

"No, your daughter's class is Gryffindor and Slytherin."

"Maybe another student then." Though it would be petty for Malfoy's son to start something so soon with Rosie. Hadn't Draco learned anything from his stupid feud with Harry? And even if Rose was a girl, Draco had to know that wouldn't stop his little Scorpius from getting the snot knocked out of him.

The look Hermione received from Prof. McGonagall was even more disapproving than the one she received about a minute ago for correcting her former teacher regarding her last name.

"Mum, stop embarrassing me."

"What are you talking about?" Hermione asked Rose.

"I did it. You don't have to make excuses or look for someone else to blame."

"Why are you saying that? Why are you giving in?"

"Giving in? I was caught. Simple as that."

"I don't believe it."

Prof. McGonagall said, "Yes, your daughter already confessed."

"But … why?" Hermione couldn't believe Rose would cheat or didn't admit it when she was caught. "Why would you do that to me?"

"You? Mum, not everything is about you. And not everything is about dad either."

Hermione's mouth dropped open. Yes, this wasn't about her, but how had Ron somehow entered the picture? He didn't care. He was off playing quidditch. Or as he put it 'living his dream' of sitting on the Chudley bench. Maybe it was Ron's fault. He told Rosie to beat Scorpius Malfoy.

"Mum," Rosie whined. "Don't do the crying thing."

Hermione wiped at one eye then the other. She wasn't going to cry. Not in front of Prof. McGonagall. Not at Hogwarts.

"You can go, Miss Weasley."

"Thank you, Professor."

Hermione couldn't help it. She had to sniffle or liquid would leak out of her nose.

Prof. McGonagall rearranged her desk. Pushing a box of ordinary muggle paper tissues to the edge in front of Hermione.

"Your daughter was already assigned a detention. If this is the only time she's caught, then there's no reason to worry, Ms. Granger."

"I know. I … I can't believe she did it. What next? Why is all this happening to me?"

Growing embarrassed when Prof. McGonagall had no reply to her mostly rheotorical question, Hermione blubbered, "I know. I can't help it sometimes. Ron does whatever he likes, while I try to … but then we have no money because every time I set some aside for the children, he sneaks it out of our vault."

"Where are you in your studies, Ms. Granger?"

"Um, I'll be done soon. Just a few more specialized courses."

"Do you need them?"

"Well, I went into healing to make a difference. Make things better. I need -"

Prof. McGonagall's head shook slightly from side to side. "Wouldn't you rather do something worth writing about than reading of others?"

"But –"

"Overcoming is not about knowing all the answers."

"Lives will be at stake."

"Not initially. You do not have to be all-knowing before being able to give a dose of Pepper Up."

"Pepper Up? I –"

"When are your classes? Are you free mornings?"

"Uh, I guess."

"Assist Madame Longbottom in the Infirmary mornings before class."

"But-"

"There will be a stipend for you."

"How much?"

"I'll need to discuss it with Severus, but it should be enough to make it worth your while. And you'll gain some hands-on experience."

"Would Prof. Snape allow it?"

"Why wouldn't he? He has a limited amount of time and concentration available per day. I don't want him wasting it in the Infirmary."

"Is Hannah in trouble?"

"Hardly. He knows it's the students, but we're not going to impede any student truly needing assistance."

Hermione nodded. "I'll think about it."

"Oh, you believe this is an open-ended offer?"

"What?"

"Make a decision."

"But don't you have to speak to Prof. Snape?"

Prof. McGonagall's chin lifted as she gazed at the mantel clock. "If I bother him now, he'd agree. It's simpler to tell him agreed later, rather than disturbing him now."

"I don't understand."

The head of Gryffindor frowned at her. "Why would I pester the man with something as meaningless as this?"

"He's got to care. What if he doesn't want me here?"

"I doubt he'd even notice you were here. He spends most his mornings in the head's office."

"So you want me to take the job?"

"Obviously. Now stop scuttering about."


	18. Chapter 18 - September 18, 2017

Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter, nor any of the characters from the books or movies. I do not make any money from the writing of this story.

September 18, 2017, a Monday

Hermione apparated to Hogwarts after dropping Hugo at school. She had one of Ron's old brooms to speed her trip between the gates and the school itself.

It hadn't been raining at home so Hermione was unprepared for the drizzle around the castle. She dried herself with magic once she was inside.

There were already students in the infirmary. Hannah point her in the right direction, and Hermione suited up for work by containing her hair, placing a cap upon her head, and donning an apron. Somewhat old-fashioned, but the magical medical community were adverse to scrubs.

After dosing student after student, Hannah and Hermione had repelled all the young invaders from the Hogwarts infirmary.

"Is it like this every morning?" Hermione asked as she gathered empty bottles and spoons.

"More or less. It depends on tests, what's expected in class, and even the weather. Raining means more of them are sick."

"I don't think many of them were as sick as they claimed."

"Pepper Up won't hurt them."

Hermione nodded agreement. She didn't like the feel of Pepper Up unless she was truly sick.

She ran water into the sink to wash the potion bottles.

Hannah said, "You could let the house elves wash those."

"It's no problem," Hermione said. Everything she needed was here, even a bottle brush and drying racks that had the capacity to hold maybe twice as many empty bottles. "Do you brew the potions?"

"No," Hannah said. "Prof. Snape takes care of all that."

"Oh." After a moment, Hermione asked, "Shouldn't you help though? Is he well enough?"

The young matron shrugged. "Madam Pomfrey said he did it, and if he doesn't want to, all he has to do is say something. And if he didn't want to say something, I'd notice if he ever fell behind."

"So … he's kind of all right?"

"What do you mean by that?" Hannah drew up a shoulder and sighed. "I mean he's always in pain but stable. I check him like once a month. And he floos or apparates in the school rather taking stairs. He's careful."

"Do any of the other staff have any existing health concerns I should know about?"

"Other than age? Not really. Though I suspect Hagrid gets a bunch of injuries that he takes care of his own way, if you know what I mean. If something happens though, I have a log book in my office with their passwords, both doors and floo."

Hermione nodded again while she was elbow-deep in soapy water.


	19. Chapter 19 - October 5, 2017

Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter, nor any of the characters from the books or movies. I do not make any money from the writing of this story.

October 5, 2017, a Thursday

Hermione offered to take patient files back to the dungeon-like room beneath St. Mungo's and file them in the labyrinth of ancient, wooden cabinets before she left for the afternoon.

Years and years of patients and rather than purging the ancient files; they added more rows of cabinets.

Hermione filed a few yet kept a couple in hand to wave around if anyone else came down here and found her in the rows of currently living patient cabinets for patients whose last name began with 'S'.

Prof. Snape had a couple fat jackets full of notes. He really did show up at St. Mungo's every few months or so. His condition was one of slow deterioration. Nagini's poison was still present in his body after all this time, edging closer and closer to his heart, creeping down one of his lungs, corroding bones, and withering blood vessels. A necrosis stealing away his life.

She flipped through pages. Treatment was no longer attempted, just monitoring. Prof. Snape's protracted existence was due to his own magic keeping the poison mostly at bay rather than any real healing. He even handled his own pain potions. St. Mungo's made note of those being Prof. Snape's own recipe, but not the name or ingredients.

Going further back, the healers even referenced they gave up on his cursed and twisted leg when Prof. Snape did not agree to amputation at the hip.

Hermione could understand his reluctance for that extreme measure. He had already lost toes and a finger under torture. And if the modern healing methods would be a wooden leg similar to Alastor Moody's, why not keep his own? At least it could feel something compared to a strapped-on lump of wood.

She'd have to examine Prof. Snape for herself, but Hermione was positive she could do better than St. Mungo's had.


	20. Chapter 20 - October 13, 2017

Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter, nor any of the characters from the books or movies. I do not make any money from the writing of this story.

October 13, 2017, a Friday

Hermione was rather pleased with herself. Her tougher stance on skiving morning classes had begun to make a dent in the crowd of students showing up at the infirmary. And it was a Friday. No one wanted to play sick for the weekend.

This gave Hermione the opportunity she had been waiting for. She hurried through washing up before

checking herself in the mirror to ensure her hair, cap, and apron were all perfect before heading to the Headmaster's office.

The griffon stood still, rather than moving aside to admit her. Was Prof. Snape somewhere else in the school? From what she had heard, he was in his office most of the day but there would be times he wouldn't be there.

How long should she wait? Maybe Hermione should wait up in the headmaster's office, rather than the hall.

She looked at the griffon's stone eye. "Deluge."

The statue lowered its head yet remained in place.

Hermione repeated, "Deluge." She had checked the password last week and again this morning. It had not changed in Hannah's log book. And Hermione did not mispronounce the word.

The griffin moved aside, showing her the staircase.

She opened the office door at the top of the stairs and had already stepped inside before she realized Prof. Snape was in his office.

Hermione stopped dead in her tracks before concluding he may be asleep stretched out on the sofa with his eyes closed.

A portrait muttered, "What do you think you're up to?"

She looked at them. They covered the walls so other than knowing the speaker had been probably male, Hermione couldn't make much of an educated guess. None feigned sleep.

Prof. Dumbledore's portrait suggested, "You need to speak to Prof. McGonagall."

"I'm here to see Prof. Snape."

"Not now, Madam Weasley."

Hermione stepped closer to the current headmaster, rather than keeping her eyes on the portraits. "I retained my maiden name."

Prof. Snape breathed deeply and his eyes moved slowly under his eyelids. His good hand was atop a dark green blanket that covered him from the chest downwards.

She reached down and touched the unshadowed side of his jawline. His skin was cool and free of stubble.

He did not stir.

"You cannot come in here whenever you please, missy."

Hermione looked up at the staring portraits. "I'm checking to see if he's all right."

Her eyes returned to Prof. Snape and she pushed his hair behind his ear.

"Miss Granger," Prof. Dumbledore said, "we are capable of dispatching a house elf."

"More than capable," another added.

Hermione glanced at Prof. Snape. The conversation seemed to have no impact on his nap. "Too many people ignore Prof. Snape. He has so much to offer yet everyone's content to keep him hidden away up here."

Dumbledore frowned. "He's not well."

"I'm going to do something about that."

The portrait shook his head slowly while others chorused disapproving mutters.

With such negativity, Hermione considered depression as an additional possible diagnosis. Prof. Snape was never handsome, charming, or barely civil at times, but his injuries were not a reason to hide in a tower. His seclusion was the equivalent of letting those that hurt him win. And Hermione was not going to allow that to continue.

She moved a chair over so she could set besides Prof. Snape, rather than looming over him. Hermione had to take into consideration that he was undoubtedly a difficult patient, and she should make an extra effort to put him at ease.

Once seated, she touched his shoulder. "Professor."

Hermione hadn't imagined he would be a heavy sleeper, yet apparently he was.

"Professor," she said more loudly.

His head turned and there was a hint of a snore before he took a deeper breath and continued sleeping.

Dumbledore's portrait suggested, "You should go, and perhaps discuss an appointment with Severus one evening when he joins everyone in the Great Hall for dinner."

What did he mean by that? Prof. Snape needed change. And if others were around, they may disapprove. People could be funny that way, rather than being supportive.

This time she grabbed his shoulder. "Professor."

His eyes opened immediately, he shuddered briefly, then blinked rapidly.

"Professor?"

"What do you want?" he rasped.

"I wanted to discuss your care."

There was a long moment of silence while he looked at her, lips parted. Finally he muttered, "Care? What care?"

"Your injuries."

"No. Leave me be."

"I'm a healer now. I can –"

"Get the bloody hell away from me."

"Professor –"

Hermione had seen his right hand the entire time she spoke to him, but his scarred hand pointed a wand at her now.

"Go," he said.

"You haven't even heard what I was going to suggest."

He twisted bodily so his wand still pointed at her. "I can bloody well imagine. Maybe I should try it out on you first."

"If you're upset about me waking you, I'm sorry, but you were in your office and it's not even lunch yet."

"Lunch? I'll cut off your toes and fingers one by one and feed them to a flesh-eating slug while you watch it slowly be devoured over the course of an entire day."

Hermione had a question in mind about his missing fingers and toes, but the determined and unfriendly look he continued to give her as he sat up, wand still held in her direction, convinced her not to ask now.

She looked to Dumbledore's portrait. He shook his head and flitted his hand towards the door.

Hermione asked, "Can I return later to see you?"

"You are one of the last people I'd want to see."

Hermione edged to the door. Prof. Snape sounded like he meant that. But why? She had never … could it be that seeing her reminded him of Harry? He had seen Harry over the years and hadn't jinxed him.

"I'll be going then," she said. "I'm sorry to have disturbed you."

His dark glare indicated he didn't forgive her, and the loud metallic thunk after she closed the door suggested the headmaster's office was now locked to all visitors.

Past noon, Prof. Snape stirred again. He sat up on the sofa and looked around his office frowning. "Was someone here earlier?"

"Briefly," Dumbledore said.

He lurched to his feet still looking about.

"She didn't go through any of your things."

Severus grunted, "At least I got the gender correct."

"Who did you think was here?"

"Bellatrix Lestrange."

"Oh. You did an admirable job of not letting on."

"Hmm."

"Though she wanted to help you."

"I recall that." Severus shifted on his desk chair. "Something about the Dark Lord wanted her to help me. But that cannot be."

"It's close," Dumbledore assured him. "If it happens again, you should accept her aid."

Severus looked up at the portrait. "The Dark Lord suspects my loyalties. That is the sole reason why she would offer to do anything for me."

"You could use Madam Lestrange to uncover Lord Voldemort's plans," the portrait suggested.

"I could."


	21. Chapter 21 - October 17, 2017

Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter, nor any of the characters from the books or movies. I do not make any money from the writing of this story.

October 17, 2017, a Tuesday

After stewing a couple days over Prof. Snape rebuffing her, Hermione asked Hannah while they were washing up, "What regimen is Prof. Snape on?"

"What's that?" Hannah's towel squeaked on some glassware as she dried.

"For the poison. For pain. Remedial efforts," Hermione suggested.

"About once a month I look him over, and he visits St. Mungo's a couple times a year," Hannah said. "Madam Pomfrey said Prof. Snape handled whatever he needed so I didn't go looking to make changes. He still seems capable. He's certainly brewing potions for the infirmary."

"Should he be doing that as headmaster? Shouldn't the Potions mistress do some of that?"

"Prof. Accrington isn't as dedicated to the school as full-time as Prof. Snape has always been."

"Huh?"

"She's off grounds frequently."

"Oh. Is that unusual?"

"Not really. She's our age, and I wouldn't want to say all staff must be here every day, all day. Neville and I like to leave the grounds."

Hermione nodded her agreement. "But what about Prof. Snape? His care and treatment reflects on Hogwarts."

"Huh? He's fine." Hannah scowled. "No one expected him to live this long."

"But we should try to make things better for him. He spends a lot of time alone in his office."

"Hermione, Prof. Snape prefers to be left alone."

"He may be self-conscious about his limitations."

Hannah stared at her, looking puzzled. She then let out a laugh and pointed at Hermione. "You had me on there. Weasleys!"

"What?"

"Your joke about Prof. Snape. Self-conscious? Ha! What next? Too shy to speak up for himself?"

"Uh, no. I meant it's a shame he spends most of his time alone."

"He likes to read, when all those portraits aren't yammering at him."

Hermione was tempted to tell Hannah about Prof. Snape taking a nap in his office, but what would that prove?


	22. Chapter 22 - December 24, 2017

December 24, 2017, a Sunday

Hermione was as mortified as Rose as Ron retold the story about their Rosie being caught cheating and twisting it into Hermione's pressure over the need to not only succeed, but be the best at everything. Except Divination.

"You weren't there, Ron," Hermione said. It was Ron who told Rosie to beat Scorpius Malfoy at King's Cross.

"I wish I was there when you spoke to McGonagall. I can't believe you whinged to her about me and wriggled your way into assisting in the Infirmary."

"I didn't. I … you know I am studying healing, Ron? Why would it be so unbelievable that I'd like some more practical experience?"

"You hate it there. I mean, you're taking orders from Neville's wife."

"Hannah's a lovely person and we work as a team."

Harry said, "What about that dragon sighting, huh?"

"Maybe Hermione doesn't want to spend the rest of her life sitting on a bench," Ginny suggested, cancelling out Harry's attempt to change the subject.

Hermione certainly didn't. Why couldn't Ron forgive anyone's mistakes instead of laughing about them, months later? Mocking Rose would only make her act out worse. Rose acted like she didn't know Hermione at Hogwarts. Her daughter even looked over her shoulder when Hermione waved at her, like she was waving at someone behind her.


	23. Chapter 23 - April 13, 2018

Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter, nor any of the characters from the books or movies. I do not make any money from the writing of this story.

April 13, 2018, a Friday

"I don't see why you're wasting your time there," Ron muttered. "The whole weekend?" He shoveled some potatoes into his mouth.

"Practical experience is good," Hermione said. "And to be frank, your mum loves Hugo and having him over at the Burrow. Besides, how many people do you think will wander into the infirmary during a quidditch game? I'll be there just in case. It'll probably be stomach aches later in the evening from one house celebrating too much from winning the Cup."

Ron shook his head before throwing his hands up. "It's just another excuse. You want to be back at Hogwarts. You'd never leave there if you didn't have to."

"No." Hermione tilted her head to indicate to Ron that Hugo could hear him, even though their son was also inhaling food, like Ron. "It's a job. And it's giving me a better idea of what I'd like to do once I finish my courses in a couple months."

"What?" Ron asked. "Teach? Is that your next thing? You're using this to get into Hogwarts and push someone out the door? A lot of them have to be getting up there in age. I saw them at the last celebration. Flitwick? McGonagall? Or wait, you can't be bothered with just teaching. You looking to take Snape's job? He's already half-dead. The only one that's safe is Trelawney. You're rubbish at Divination."

Hugo's chuckle caught Hermione's glare too, before she scowled at Ron again. "You're a fine one to talk about being rubbish at a job. You spend half the match sitting on the bench, and the other half standing around scratching yourself."

"Oi! You don't even come to my matches."

"I have better things to do with my time."

"Reliving your glory days as a brown-nosing swot at Hogwarts?"


	24. Chapter 24 - April 14, 2018

Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter, nor any of the characters from the books or movies. I do not make any money from the writing of this story.

April 14, 2018, a Saturday

Hermione eyed the teachers at the head table while she joined them for dinner in the Great Hall. Ron's words still ringing in her ears. Teaching at Hogwarts would be her dream job. After Hugo was a first year at Hogwarts, she wouldn't have any reason to go home.

Who was likeliest to retire?

Hermione could see Prof. McGonagall becoming headmistress at any time, especially if Prof. Snape ignored his health and wouldn't let Hermione examine him. She doubted her old head of house was going to retire before becoming headmistress. Hermione would love to fill Prof. McGonagall's shoes teaching both Transfiguration and being head of house for Gryffindor. When this would happen all depended on Prof. Snape's health or his desire to remain headmaster.

He wasn't at dinner tonight, but someone already mentioned that he attended the game that afternoon, so Hermione believed he was probably tired from that, rather than some other reason.

She studied the teachers present.

Prof. Flitwick seemed likely to retire, and Hermione could definitely teach Charms.

Hagrid was also older, but Hermione couldn't see herself as groundskeeper or enjoying Magical Creatures. She was certainly capable of teaching the subject, but it wouldn't be her first or second choice.

There were other subjects Hermione would enjoy teaching more, and she evaluated each professor in turn weighing how likely they were about to leave Hogwarts in the next year or two.

Maybe Dawlish. He wasn't as old, but he did look worn-out.

Zoe Accrington stared back at her as Hermione's eyes travelled along the table.

Hermione looked down at her plate. Was it some sort of challenge? Hermione looked back up at her, but the Potions mistress looked at the students now. She had been in Slytherin, two years behind Hermione. Hermione didn't recall any confrontations with her. And she hadn't been in Malfoy's gang. Anyway, Accrington hadn't aged well. From here, Hermione could see the crow's feet around her eyes and the deep lines in the corners of her mouth. She might try spending more time smiling, rather than frowning.

Hannah returned from her romantic dinner with Neville a bit giggly. "Just stopping in before heading to bed."

Hermione looked up from her book. "All's good here." The Infirmary was empty.

"Thanks for doing this, Hermione."

Hermione nodded and smiled. She didn't want to say that every sickle counted.

A house elf popped in.

Surprised, Hannah listed to the side and almost fell over.

"Madames," it said. "The heads' master slipped on wets tile and fell."

"Oh," Hannah groaned. "Not in the bath. Ugh."

"What?" Hermione stood up. Hannah was in no shape to cast spells straight.

"Uh, it's all right. I mean, yeah, it's just there's … oh. Are you sure? I mean I could go, and I should, but …" Hannah let out a long breath.

"No, I got it. Is there something I should know?"

"Uh, I mean, he could be dressed … maybe. But if not, um, well, it's … I guess I should come out and say it so you don't laugh or anything, but um … uh …"

"I really should go."

Hannah rapidly said in a low voice, "Hung like a muggle." Then giggled some more.

Hermione nodded. That was immature, even if Hannah had been drinking.

"But ssssh" Hannah put her finger to her lips.

"Don't worry." How small could it be compared to Ron's? Or anyone else's? She had seen a few during her training and in her textbooks. And Hermione certainly wouldn't laugh. Healers shouldn't laugh about this sort of thing.

Hermione unlocked the cabinet and looked up the floo password for Prof. Snape's bedroom. She straightened her apron and checked her cap in a mirror.

After picking up the portable healer bags they kept stocked, Hermione went over to their grate and threw in some powder. "Prof. Snape's bedroom; fig newton heath."

The flames behind Hermione went out as she stepped out of the grate, and the room returned to gloomy darkness.

In the brief moment of semi-light, Hermione had seen a large bed centered on the far wall with a house elf standing upon it.

She hadn't enough time to ascertain where the headmaster's en suite bathroom was in relation to the fireplace while she had extra light. She stepped around one of the chair shadows and called, "Prof. Snape?"

The house elf answerd, "Why's madam not come earlier?"

"I came within minutes. Where's Prof. Snape?"

"Already's gone bed with pain potion."

"Was he hurt?"

"Head's master always hurt."

Hermione walked forward. "I mean from falling tonight."

The elf hissed before verbalizing, "Professor Head does not asks for help unless he cannot do it himselfs."

She waved her wand to get some light. Prof. Snape slept in the middle of the bed, turned to rest on one side. Since the covers were drawn up, Hermione swiveled herself bodily to imagine his perspective. He lay on his bad side.

"So what are we looking at here?"

The elf said, "The heads master of Hogwarts."

"I meant injuries. Did he complain about anything specifically?"

"The fall."

Hermione huffed, "If you aren't helpful, you might as well go."

The elf _pop_ ped out of sight.

That wasn't what Hermione hoped for, yet it was an improvement over the elf's lack of information.

She held out her wand, but then rethought that. "Professor? Professor, are you awake?"

He didn't react.

Hermione leaned closer. "Professor?"

She cast a diagnostic charm, and after she finished with his head got an answering pulse almost immediately as she began to guide her wand down his body.

"Of course." The poison damage in his neck would trigger the spell.

This was going to take more time.

She folded down the covers before continuing her search for injuries.

As Hermione worked her way down his body, Hannah's warning repeated in her head. Sure as nifflers finding gold, there was an injury in that region.

She tried again, "Professor?"

Figuring he wouldn't feel cold, Hermione pushed the blankets down further.

He wore a grey nightshirt which made it really easy to get creeped out by his twisted leg. It was like one of those stretchy doll toys with his thigh twisted so his knee faced backward and another twist below pointing his foot in the right direction. He was also missing his smallest two toes from that foot.

Hermione worked her way back up his leg to the only new possible injury she found. "Professor?"

She was a professional and could do this. It's possible with his problem leg, the professor could have a groin pull if his feet slipped in opposite directions.

When she initially lifted his hem, she thought he had further lasting injuries because it ended about mid-thigh. But no, it really was that long. And thick. And uncircumcised.

Hermione couldn't take her eyes off that, and her fingers tentatively touched it before she mentally shook herself. This was a patient. Besides being Prof. Snape.

And after a quick check with her wand, there was no injury here.

Yay! Or no. Definitely no. Moving on …

She kneeled on the bed and moved closer to him. He was cooperative and light enough to roll more on his side.

Bingo. A couple charms later gave her a diagnosis of severely bruised coccyx or tail bone. Not broken, but could be very painful. He probably fell on his lean and hairless butt.

Her wand hand was busy but her other hand slid over his warm, smooth skin.

Ron had hair on his back and rear end. More manly perhaps, yet Hermione could appreciate this too. She would even prefer rubbing lotion on Prof. Snape over broom-weary, hairy, sweaty Ron any day.

After his injury was healed, Hermione's fingers traced down his leg a few times before creeping to the front. Of course there was hair here, but it wasn't ginger. There was also plenty for her to hold, filling her hand and then some.

Pulling back his foreskin led to Hermione immediately revising her opinion of its usefulness. Very sexy.

And very guilty.

She released her grip because she was afraid if he stiffened any further, she wouldn't be able to stop.

Hermione realigned his nightshirt, now held up and away from his body … due to her.

She watched, breathing deeply as a damp spot formed at the apex of the fabric.

Her hand resumed its grip on the now cloth-covered flesh.

Prof. Snape didn't move, didn't say anything, didn't open his eyes.

He breathed and somehow made Hermione want something that she didn't know she wanted.

She couldn't.

She couldn't do this.

Shouldn't.

This was a patient.

But she had healed his injury so was he still a patient?

She doubted anyone would see it that way.

This was Prof. Snape's pulse she felt in her hand.

She'd be in so much trouble. Sacked. Disgraced. Ridiculed. Abhorred as some sort of deviant.

Now was not the time. Hermione had to come up with a plan.

Why was she even entertaining the idea? Maybe she was a deviant.

No, she wasn't. Hugo. Rose. They both needed her.

But what about her happiness? Hermione wanted this. In fact, she deserved it.

No. No. No. She had to get out of here.

She let go of Prof. Snape, covered him, and got off the bed.

Once her bag was secured, and her apron and cap straight, she headed to the grate.

She couldn't find the floo powder.

"Lumos."

There were no containers on the mantel. She searched on each side and the small table between the two chairs. Probably the only time in her life Hermione was disappointed to only find books.

She went back to the other side of the room and looked on the bedside tables.

Prof. Snape had more books. And books inside the drawers.

Did Hannah put floo powder in her bag?

Hermione knelt on the floor and carefully searched inside.

While she opened each jar and wax paper packet to search for glittery green powder, a raspy voice croaked, "Nox."

All the light in the room went out, even her own wand.

Hermione froze.

Should she say something? Should she ask Prof. Snape where he kept floo powder? She was here because he had been hurt. But … what if he guessed that she had manhandled him in a terribly unprofessional manner?

What if he woke while she rifled through his bedside table drawers? That could also be seen as a breech of trust.

She heard fabric rustling on the bed and a grunt. Then silence again.

Hermione waited.

A soft rumble of a beginning snore sounded. Each of his breaths resonated as his snoring grew in strength.

But Prof. Snape had not been snoring when she first arrived. Hermione was quite sure he wouldn't have lied motionless and silent while she molested him.

He could be faking now.

But why would he?

Maybe he did know. And wanted more.

Hermione admitted to herself that this was a risky assumption.

Her first thought was Prof. Snape lacked opportunities for intimacy. And didn't everyone want that? She knew she did. And in the proper sense, not lying motionless under Ron while he huffed obscenities in her ear and twisted her nipples like he was tuning in a wireless station.

But, what if this was some ploy to humiliate her?

She continued to crouch motionless on the floor weighing her options.

Eventually her courage plucked her off the floor and steered her back into dangerous territory. As Hermione continued to listen to Prof. Snape snore, she removed her apron, cap, shoes, and eventually her tights after some wavering.

She was still clothed and covered in case this was a huge mistake or Prof. Snape decided to cast _lumos._

Hermione slid under the covers and shimmied closer to the middle and her goal.

Her hands explored, and she found Prof. Snape had rolled back onto his bad side. Nothing prevented her from lifting the hem of his night shirt, or from spooning against his back and stroking him into a ready state.

She smelled his hair and guessed it had been washed before he slipped and fell, as she let the fingers of her unoccupied hand play with it.

Her toes quested along his lower legs as she contemplated possible positioning. Hermione did not want to lie on her back and think of a grocery shopping list, but she had to concede Prof. Snape had physical limitations so she shouldn't set her hopes too high.

While she contemplated he might be close and she should unhand him or go slower, he took a deep breath and stopped snoring.

Since Hermione didn't want to alarm him, she whispered, "Severus."

"Hmm?"

Encouraged that he didn't flip out, Hermione gave him a reassuring squeeze and resumed stroking.

His leg slid back into hers and he made some small noises that Hermione interpreted as confusion.

"Shh. I really want to. With you," she whispered.

He reached back and brushed her face with his hand before combing through her curls with his fingers.

"But –"

"Shh," she said again. "You're probably going to say I'm married and shouldn't do this, but I … I just want to live in the moment. All right?"

"But your husband, Ro-"

"Don't say his name. He's a selfish prick. I want yours, Severus. Yours feels so wonderful."

Hermione didn't know how to interpret his drawn-out sigh. Her words weren't award-worthy, but she meant them. She wanted to do this. Now, and with him.

She allowed him to pull her hand off, even though it worried her. Were they or weren't they?

Severus turned into her. "Move."

Hermione stayed where she was.

He grunted something else, but it may have been an obscenity directed at himself rather than at her because he shifted himself away from her which may not have been easy for him to do.

Severus pulled at her robe. "Might be more convincing if you had taken this off."

She sat up and pulled her robe up and over her head, throwing it on the floor next to the bed. "Better?"

"Hmm." He smacked her thigh. "Over mine."

"Do you want me to turn around?"

"No."

This wasn't right was what Hermione thought as she positioned herself. He was lying down and she was lying on top of him, also lying face up. Her back was to him. The only thing that made sense was her legs were outside his.

"Get your hair out of my face."

Hermione's hair was a lot calmer than it used to be, but she didn't think bringing up her school days would help set the mood.

He pushed her right leg with his own. "Wider, witch."

Frankly, the way her legs ended up hurt, and his legs pinned her apart now.

His mouth was near enough to her ear to catch a disparaging mutter about her knickers while he stroked her through the fabric.

First off, she hadn't put them on this morning knowing she'd end up in bed with anyone tonight, and now that he held her legs apart, she couldn't take them off.

He certainly felt like he knew what he was doing though. She squirmed as his fingers continued to stroke her.

"Better."

What did he mean by that?

Hermione's feet flexed as he focused his attention on one spot.

Beneath her, his body slid lower and then he pulled the gusset of her knickers to the side, exposing her and running his finger up and down her bared entrance.

She released the breath she was holding when he stopped, but she held it again as he resumed, rubbing her with his glans instead of his finger.

Her toes spread apart as he teased her.

And then he thrust into her, and she inhaled deeply.

His fingers returned to stroking her clit as she took shallow breaths.

Hermione felt like she was pinned down, even though he was beneath her.

She wriggled because he wasn't moving out and in. He held her in place while he continued to overexcite her.

Bracing the soles of her feet on the bed added to the feeling of lightness that built up.

And then it happened. She was both out-of-body and intensely focused on where their bodies joined. Her internal muscles fluttered around him, unable to do anything other than surrender.

The rest of her body also gave up, slumping as her feet slid.

Her left hand slid into his, and her fingers were drawn to his missing ring finger. A trace of stump remained.

She didn't think his torturer left it as a reminder since Prof. Snape had not been expected to survive, as far as anyone knew. Whoever did this to him had not been apprehended, or possibly died without confessing.

Hermione shifted to better feel him inside her and waited.

Finally she asked, "Why aren't you moving?"

"You'd be offended if I threw you onto the floor."

"Huh?"

"Why not admit how repellent this is?"

As she sat up to question him, her elbow jabbed him hard enough to earn a hiss, and he slid out from under her.

"Did I hurt you?"

His answer was a push to her supporting arm.

Hermione became prone again, yet he didn't do anything else to her except scoot further to the far side. Did he feel remorse over what they happened? Hermione started it. She wanted it. He hadn't come on to her. But she didn't think telling him everything was fine would reverse his mood.

What had she missed? Then she corrected herself, nothing about this was right. The sex was great – for her. And rather than enjoy his company, his intellect, his wit, his … Hermione could list everything that came to mind about how she would love Prof. Snape's company, but that wouldn't change what happened here tonight.

And he could be immensely difficult. She should give him time and also an escape. Hermione was intruding in his space. "Do you want me to go?"

"If you would."

Hermione wasn't expecting an answer that quick and definite. She moved though, finding her robe on the floor with her bare foot.

As she donned it, she asked, "Do you have some floo powder?"

"Down in my office."

Hermione's cheeks heated. There had to be at least a hundred portraits that would see her. "Any up here?"

He made a guttural sound in his throat before saying, "I'll check for you."

She heard the rustle of fabric as he got out of bed. "If you tell me –"

"I don't recall if there is any," he replied.

Hinges creaked. Did he open a door? Was he going down to his office to get some?

She stuffed her tights in her bag, slipped on her shoes, put on her apron, and mashed her hair under her cap.

He said, "Over here."

Hermione moved towards him and the grate that he lit.

As the flames illuminated this portion of the room, she stared at him.

His hair hung forward, covering much of his face in shadow. She could be sure he wasn't smiling as he flicked his fingers towards the flames, turning them green.

She moved closer to him and went in for a quick peck, but he pulled back before her lips made contact.

"Go," he said.

She nodded, adopting her own frown before announcing clearly, "The Infirmary."

As Hermione stepped forward, she looked back at him over her shoulder and gave a wave. She felt this was the beginning of something that would be highly rewarding if carefully nurtured.


	25. Chapter 25 - April 15, 2018

Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter, nor any of the characters from the books or movies. I do not make any money from the writing of this story.

April 15, 2018, a Sunday

Severus was later than usual with coming down to the headmaster's office this morning.

Since the current headmaster had his 'unwell' days, the portraits didn't usually pry if Severus had a lie-in, but this morning his hair was damp. He also looked around his office suspiciously and slowly circled his desk and the chairs before taking his seat behind the desk.

"Something amiss, Severus?" Dumbledore's portrait asked.

"Was someone here last night?"

"No one entered this office after you returned from the quidditch match. You ate dinner alone while reading."

Severus nodded.

"Is something wrong?"

"No, I woke feeling out of sorts and manky. Perhaps I read late into the night and was too tired to bathe last night."

Another portrait said, "Lack of daily hygiene has never bothered you before."

"Perhaps it was overwarm during the night, and I didn't recall when I woke."

Severus held his wand out and cast _priori incantato_. A wave of weakness followed momentary panic. Whatever he believed happened to him during the night led to casting a contraception charm. He could not allow his delusions to lead to randomly cast spells. He frequently had violent memories of his past and that would lead to endangering others. Once that happened, Severus would be committed to St. Mungo's. With no wand. Helpless. Perhaps tied down. Tortured again.

"Are you all right, Severus?" Dumbledore's portrait asked.

"Yes."

Severus reached for the stack of letters on top of his newspaper. A sudden pain stabbed high into his upper left chest; close to his bad shoulder so reaching out his good hand shouldn't have caused it.

He sat back empty-handed and waited. This could be the end. The twisting blade of agony was in the vicinity of the snake venom.

As time passed, he subconsciously counted the ticks of a clock in the room. He lived another 10 seconds. 30. 60.

He should do something before the pain became worse. The easiest thing to do would be summon his pain potion, and then while he was under its effects die painlessly. In a way, Severus would enjoy dying painlessly. Didn't he deserve that by now?

The portraits clamored for attention as the potion flew onto the desk.

Severus sighed before responding. "I am in pain now. I need it. I'll catch up on correspondence later. It is Sunday." And possibly the last day of his life, so he'd never have to deal with Hogwarts business again.

Dumbledore's voice rose out of the chatter, "Severus, can't you wait twenty minutes? You haven't even opened any envelopes."

"It's a new pain, not the increasing build-up of my usual ones. I need my potion now."

Severus ignored them as he uncorked his vial one-handed. He didn't need painted annoyances dismissing how much pain he was in and how much more he could stand.

His office floo flared before he lifted the vial to his mouth.

Madam Longbottom stepped out and said, "How can I assist, headmaster?"

The portaits had sent an elf on him.

He recorked the potion while attempting to move as little as possible.

By the time she loomed over him, wand extended, the cork was securely in place. Keeping the euphoric state of painlessness from him.

"Where the poison is, there's a different pain now," he said.

"How long have you had this pain?" she asked.

"Only since a short while. It's stabbing, rather than the marrow-deep ache I normally have."

"Since last night?"

"No, only since I've been at my desk."

She performed a motion with her wand.

Severus turned his face away as she touched his bad shoulder with her free hand. He'd rather take his pain potion and be done with it. But this woman could recommend him to St. Mungo's. And if that happened, they may not allow him to leave this time. They would take his wand. Or try to.

"Your clavicle is broken again."

He resumed breathing.

"Let me mend that for you."

Severus gave a brief nod. He had been through this before. The venom had made the bones in the area susceptible to breakage.

"Are you pressed for time this morning?" she asked.

All his aches anticipated their potion. He had it here. The cork had been out of it, and this witch showed up to delay his moments of peace. The pain-free instants that had become the only thing to look forward to.

He couldn't tell her what he really thought. "What service may I render you, Madam Longbottom?"

"Oh, I'm good. Potion usage is winding down now. Just treating the students that are getting worked up over their tests."

He didn't care about that. Severus wanted her to state her business and go.

"But while I'm here," she continued, "I might as well give you a good going-over. If you don't mind."

"Didn't we do this recently?"

"Before Easter," she replied.

When was that? He didn't know, and it wasn't wise to let someone know when he couldn't remember something as simple as that. He responded, "If you insist."

"Good."

Madam Longbottom was guileless so he believed her answer. She also had a lighter touch than Madam Pomfrey and clearly enunciated her spells so he knew what she was about. Pomfrey had never liked him, and she made it clear for many years that only her healer's oath prevented her from rubbing salt in any physical wounds he had.

While she had his bad arm out of its sling, Longbottom examined each of his remaining fingers.

"What test is that?" he asked.

"I'm checking your circulation. With the other damage, and not being able to move well, you might not notice a tingling sensation or additional numbness."

Had she held his hand before? Someone had held his hand. Bellatrix Lestrange came to mind. That wouldn't be Hannah Longbottom. He remembered her as a student with her idiotic blond pigtails with badger ornaments. He would never mistake her for Bellatrix Lestrange. If that ever happened, he belonged in St. Mungo's.

After placing his arm back in the sling, she worked her way down and did the same circulation charms on his unseen toes while they remained in his soft, indoor shoes.

"Not too warm with this wool on your legs?" she asked plucking at his socks.

He shook his head as he recalled someone had recently touched his bare lower legs and feet. Severus couldn't let his words expose his confusion. No, delusions. There was no more Bellatrix Lestrange. There was no more Dark Lord to tell Bellatrix to help him or seduce him, or whatever he imagined happened last night.

Severus escaped discovery this time. A contraception charm would harm no one, if anyone had been in his bedroom. And if it wasn't Madam Longbottom, Severus couldn't imagine who would have permission to be there. If there had been anyone other than a house elf, they could not publicly ridicule him because they'd expose themselves.

Still, this situation worried him. He could not consider himself safe.


	26. Chapter 26 - April 16, 2018

Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter, nor any of the characters from the books or movies. I do not make any money from the writing of this story.

April 16, 2018, a Monday

Hermione noticed Hannah kept looking at her this morning, but until they cleared the Infirmary of students with Monday morning maladies, she hadn't said what was on her mind.

Had Prof. Snape said something? If he had, Hermione doubted … she wasn't sure what he'd do, but she didn't think he'd tell on her. Yet. He'd probably wait like he had with Prof. Lupin.

Was it a portrait?

An elf?

Did Hermione leave something incriminating? No, she had cleaned everything, and had even added a paper sachet of floo powder to all their kits in the Infirmary.

No students were in the ward overnight Saturday.

Hermione had straightened her hair and returned to looking presentable before seeing Hannah Sunday morning.

When she flooed home, Ron was having a lie-in, and by the time he got up to head off to the pitch, she was bathed and wearing fresh clothes as she made his breakfast.

No, all her bases were covered.

Maybe Prof. Snape – no, Severus - had made a request to see more of Hermione? Yes, Hermione could see how Hannah would see that as strange. But they'd have to be careful. For now. They were still in the beginning stages of their relationship, and both of them were headstrong individuals.

As a second year moped out of their domain, Hannah asked, "What's got you smiling?"

"Huh?" Hermione replied. She forced her face into soberness. Her daydreams of Severus, books, and meaningful, intelligent conversations that didn't revolve around what was for dinner must be showing on Hermione's face.

"Never mind," Hannah said. "I probably wore a similar smile yesterday after a romantic evening with Neville."

"Of course," Hermione replied.

"I didn't want to forget. It probably slipped my mind the other night, and it may have been only a hairline fracture that didn't give Prof. Snape any pain till yesterday, but for him, because of everything else, you need to be thorough."

"What?"

"His collar bone again. It's weak where the poison has seeped in. I mean it's no big deal to fix, but he could have a serious injury that's suppressed by his pain potions. So we can't always go by what he says he feels. Those potions take care of every ache from head to toe, and could probably drop an unsuspecting hippogriff out of the sky."

"Should he be on something so strong?"

Hannah's face became stern. "If you're worried that he doesn't suffer, he does. Don't worry about that."

"No, that's not what I meant. Isn't it dangerous for him not to feel anything?"

"It's fine. He's not numb for most of the day. When he is, it's such a relief, he sleeps."

"Okay, but -"

"He's in terrible pain, Hermione. Madam Pomfrey steered me towards chronic pain management study specifically for Prof. Snape. Other staff members also have severe arthritis and rheumatism, and I ensure they are also comfortable. Although we have magic, not everything can be cured or the patient may refuse a specific course of treatment."

"Who refused treatment?"

Hannah's eyes widened. "Prof. Snape could have a perfectly fine magical leg and arm. They could even build a shoulder joint." Her hand waved at her neck. "And possibly go up his neck and into his chest. Magical prosthesis can be better than the real thing. He's just stubborn."

Prof. Snape must have his reasons not to hack off his limbs and strap on a new one. But choosing to remain infirmed let whoever tortured him win. Hermione was going to change all that.


	27. Chapter 27 - April 26, 2018

Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter, nor any of the characters from the books or movies. I do not make any money from the writing of this story.

April 26, 2018, a Thursday

Hermione finally had an entire afternoon to spend in the St. Mungo's library researching chronic pain and treatment. Hannah had given her the idea to do further research in this area, besides physical disability.

Severus hadn't made any excuses to be alone with Hermione, but she wanted to be prepared. He might surprise her rather than sending a letter to let her know where and when.

Though if he kept her waiting too long, this research was the perfect excuse to see him.

In her head, pieces came together for Hermione. Depression. Anger. Lack of independence. Possibility of ridicule. Also, an interesting set of studies regarding the physically disabled and their categorization as being burdens on society and perceived lack of sexuality.

Was this what went wrong between them that night? Hermione realized he was short with her, and she hadn't been able to guess why. She wanted to discuss it with him, but since it was Prof. Snape it would not be an easy conversation to broach so early in their relationship. But if things were to work between them, he'd have to trust her.


	28. Chapter 28 - May 2, 2018

Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter, nor any of the characters from the books or movies. I do not make any money from the writing of this story.

May 2, 2018, a Wednesday

Ron grumbled, "I don't see why you need to work today of all days. That cap and apron look stupid. You're supposed to be with me and Harry."

"The students will be around, and if they need help I want them to recognize me right away."

"That's what the teachers are for. You're just there to wipe noses."

"I am not." Hermione looked at Ron's orange ensemble. It wasn't his Chudley Cannons uniform, yet it was guaranteed to start conversations. Ron took his role seriously of creating publicity for the Cannons. It's not like the team took winning games seriously to generate interest. Maybe the team was cursed.

The last place Hermione wanted to be today was with Ron and his constant talk about the Cannons and his role as the team's keeper. He never mentioned he was the reserve Keeper who spent all game cheering from the sideline, or that he wasn't even paid.

She called up the stairs, "Hugo, you ready?"

Hermine grabbed a couple of umbrellas.

*** 00 ***

During their walk from Hogsmeade, Ron mentioned a couple times, "They could have at least let you floo into the castle. You do work there."

"It's okay, Ron."

"No, it's not. We're the reason why people are celebrating."

Hermione didn't bother answering and kept walking, holding Hugo's hand.

There were a lot of people on the road, compared to a normal day. It was the 20th anniversary of Voldemort's defeat at the Battle of Hogwarts.

The festivities were going to be held outside. The Ministry had people at the castle traipsing around the grounds for over a week.

Ron pointed out a few minor changes that had been made since they went to school for Hugo's benefit. He made it sound like anything that had changed was a mistake. Hermione didn't agree now, or ten or fifteen years ago, so didn't bother responding with her observations. Repaving the courtyard and some of the walks with a different cobblestone with a smoother surface was not the hanging offense Ron made it out to be.

She was glad when Ron spotted Harry and took Hugo along to bask in Ron's tales of how great he was twenty years ago.

Hermione joined Hannah, and together they reviewed their outdoor supplies. Hannah expected stomach aches from all the food and drinks, but also had worries over the weather. Besides the morning drizzle that had sputtered off and on, sun was expected this afternoon. There were a good number of awnings erected by the Ministry, but Hannah circled about to make sure there was ample seating for younger students who may overdo their running around, and also for the older staff who needed to be spaced about to keep an eye on the students.

"Where's Neville?"

"With Prof. Snape."

"Oh?"

"House elves can help him, but for something like this there should be another staff member."

"What do you mean by that? And did Neville draw the short straw or something?"

"No, it's just that Prof. Snape becomes distracted. And Neville trusts him to side-along apparate."

"Are they coming down soon?"

"Not too soon. It's too long a day for Prof. Snape. These celebrations aren't on his schedule."

"What schedule?"

"His."

Hermione could tell Hannah was attempting to be cryptic. By now, Hermione doubted the school matron knew more about Severus than she did. She decided to move around on her own, rather than allow Hannah to tease her or whatever she was doing. Hermione figured if Hannah knew what happened between Severus and her, she'd not be able to hide it this well.

Where'd all these people come from?

Hermione spent what seemed like a really long time giving directions and steering people away from either the greenhouses or Hagrid's hut before trudging back to the main area to take a rest and look after students, rather than adult wizards who should know better.

She entered the red-striped awning indicating the medical station, surveyed the lack of students needing attention this early in the day, and fixed herself a cup of tea. Hermione sat and looked out from under the canopy to watch the festivities. Students and younger children dashed by as it began to rain again. Older wizards and witches took shelter under awnings.

Since Hermione still had the umbrella she brought for Hugo, it wasn't doing him any good unless she saw him pass by. She kept an eye out for Rose too, but if Rosie saw her first she'd come nowhere near Hermione.

Prof. McGonagall walked by, then stopped. "You'll do, Granger."

"Yes, Professor?"

"Some … one left Sybil with Severus. Go over there." She pointed towards where the headmaster sat.

"Um, what should I do?"

"He's paying more attention to the school than the people around him. Make sure Severus heard a question before he blurts out an answer."

"The school?"

"Severus is adept at listening to Hogwarts. We don't want any break-ins so Severus, the ghosts, and house elves are on that. And that's why he's barefoot by the way, touching the grounds, under that lap blanket. But he's not always paying attention to someone speaking to his face while listening to the school."

"Oh." Hermione stood. That certainly sounded interesting. How did he do that? Did all headmasters talk to the school? What did Hogwarts tell them?

Hermione went over to where Severus sat.

Prof. Trelawny blinked owlishly through her thick glasses at her. "You," she said in an accusing tone.

"Yes, Professor," Hermione agreed. "Prof. McGonagall thought you shouldn't be shunted aside when you played such as important part during the Battle of Hogwarts."

The Divination professor pulled her chin back and said, "I doubt that's what Minerva said. However, I was there that terrible day." She stood. "And I'm afraid I'm going to have to repeat what I told you so many years ago. You haven't any skill in this area, dear. Book learning won't show you what's in front of you."

"What do you mean by that?" Hermione asked, before remembering it wasn't worth her time to talk to Prof. Trelawney about anything she 'saw'.

Trelawney's eyes dropped to Prof. Snape seated between them. He apparently wasn't paying attention to either of them. His glassy eyes looked dully out into the muddying field before them. Hermione noted that the blanket covering his lap did not expose either of his bare feet – his bad or good one, and the edge even covered his mutilated, unused left hand that emerged from his sling.

"He doesn't see you. And you're not truly seeing him."

Although disrespectful, Hermione rolled her eyes and sighed. The woman was a huge fake. If she had 'the gift', her revelation would certainly be more tittilating.

After Trelawney took her beads and shawls elsewhere, Hermione straightened the tea service and poured herself a cup from the ever-warm tea pot.

"Professor?" she asked.

When Professor Snape said nothing in return, she tapped him on his right shoulder.

He eventually turned his head to look in her direction. His brow tightened as he slowly surveyed her from head to toe.

She waited till he said, "Granger."

"Yes, Professor." Hermione didn't know who could be listening so thought she better play it safe. "Would you like some tea?"

His eyes continued to travel up and down her. Talking to the school must really disorient him, she thought to herself. "It's already made; all I have to do is pour it. It'd be no trouble."

He muttered, "Where's …?" but didn't say a name as he looked around.

"Prof. Trelawney was here earlier, but Prof. McGonagall suggested I'd be more appropriate."

Since he continued to stare at her, Hermione assured him, "I don't think she knows anything about us. But we can talk about that later."

He looked away from her, back out onto the rainy field.

Had she said something wrong? Hermione looked around. They were sort of alone. There were a few other people taking shelter from the rain, but they weren't that close.

Severus's breathing seemed more labored now. Was he nervous? Why would he be? He'd bluffed his way through a lot more than this. Was it her? Was he thinking of her? What they did and when they'd have a chance to do it again?

Afraid her face would give them away, Hermione turned back to get her tea and sat down. Her mind dwelled on how often they could arrange to meet each other. It had been over two weeks, and he hadn't even sent her an ambiguous letter or called her to his office on some pretense.

Had she done something wrong?

Hermione waited till some well-wishers passed through and spoke to Severus before leaning close to him.

She whispered, "I know last time was a bit of a surprise, but I'm willing to do whatever you want. All you have to do is say it."

Her words might sound desperate, but Hermione couldn't go on without exploring this further. This was exciting. She needed it. She felt so alive, even just recalling how wonderful it had been. She had to have more. She wanted him.

Unable to resist, she laid her hand over his whole one which was exposed, laying upon his thigh.

He pulled his hand away. "Is it time to go?"

"Um, no. Sorry," Hermione saw another wizard coming close and added, "I was checking to see if you were cold."

As the rain let up, more people crossed over to their awning while she sat beside Severus as he briefly answered questions about his health and Hogwarts. Most people seemed satisfied with a word or two, and Hermione chalked that up to his throat injury. Knowing and missing Severus's original voice, it was painful to listen to the words grate out of him.

Kingsley Shacklebolt joined them and after sitting for close to fifteen minutes on Severus's other side, hardly saying anything, he stood and offered to walk with Snape to the main podium where speeches were being given.

While Hermione was on her knees slipping the soft dragonhide shoe onto Severus's injured foot, Ron decided to check up on her. She'd know his 'bloody hell' anywhere and didn't bother turning to show her heating face.

Hermione rubbed a hand up Severus's calf, disturbing the black hair on the twisted limb.

Shacklebolt said, "You've come to walk over with us too, Weasley?"

"What?"

"We were just about to head over." The former auror and current Minister of Magic offered a hand to Hermione.

She took it and stood, before the two of them both offered their hands to Severus.

Severus looked to the side. "My cane?"

Hermione retrieved the thick, snake-headed dark wood from where it lay beside the chair and held it up for him to see.

She noticed how Shacklebolt covered how much help Severus needed to rise by grabbing his good arm with his free hand to prevent any accidents.

Ron muttered, "Merlin," behind her.

Hermione lined up the cane with Severus's hand as Shacklebolt shifted to his infirmed side.

As she turned to face the direction they were going to head, she saw Ron scowling.

"You don't have to walk with us," Hermione told him.

"This is going to take all day," Ron said.

"Why did you even come over here then?"

"I thought I'd walk with just you. My wife."

Shacklebolt said, "Join us. It's not going to begin until I arrive, and it's a short distance."

Hermione noticed they were already on the move and out on the lawn. She put her hand on Severus's good elbow.

"Not there," he said. "I need my cane."

She pulled her hand off him, but left it outstretched hovering in the air.

Ron walked circles around them. "Shouldn't you use the cane on the other side?"

Hermione explained, "It may look incorrect, but a cane is typically on the uninjured side." And how did Ron think Severus could hold it in his left hand?

Ron stopped in front of them to and twisted as he evaluated Severus's technique.

"Move, Weasley," the headmaster said.

Ron looked affronted but stepped aside. He then passed them, walking at a fast clip. "I'll see you there."

It was easy to follow his quick progress through the crowd since he was the only wizard around wearing orange.

Hermione thought they made decent progress. About the speed of someone holding the hand of a toddler.

As they neared the presentation area, Harry came over to greet them. He shook Kingsley's hand, but had enough sense to not present a hand to Prof. Snape.

Snape uttered a quick, "Potter."

"Professor," Harry responded. After visually assessing his former teached, he added, "All right?"

"Waiting for this to be over."

Why hadn't he said something sooner? "Is there anything I can do, Professor?" Hermione asked.

"I doubt it."

"You're in pain?"

He kept quiet till he sat in the chair put aside for him. Prof. Snape grimaced and shifted to lean more heavily to one side.

Seeing that he breathed so heavily, Hermione took out her wand.

"Get that out of my face," the headmaster said.

"But –" There was sweat on his face.

"He's okay," Harry assured her.

Prof. McGonagall approached and assumed a position behind Prof. Snape, resting a hand on his shoulder until someone brought her a chair and placed it next to his.

Hermione joined Ron and Harry in the center.

Ron hissed, "Take off the apron and that stupid hat."

Hermione removed them, but thought Ron had a lot of nerve commenting on her clothing since he was dressed as England's only Chudley Cannon fan.

She smiled at Harry. Harry looked nice and respectable. Like a role model.

And Ginny looked so happy.

Hermione looked away.

She glanced at Prof. Snape a few times but didn't want to be obvious and stare at him.

*** 00 ***

Hermione was disappointed. She had hoped Prof. Snape would make some excuse for her to escort him back to the castle, but he didn't speak to her the rest of the day then apparated back on his own before the festivities were over.

The students kept her busy the rest of the day, and she barely had time to daydream about what she would have planned. Maybe he was waiting for her to make the first move.

Unfortunately, Ron was in a drunken, celebratory mood and arranged for Hugo to go home with his parents while she helped neaten the grounds.

Once they were home, Hermione said, "I'm tired, Ron. I worked today."

"Sitting around, drinking tea's more like it. And all you do is lie there. How can you be too tired to do that?"

"Maybe I don't want to lie there and think of England."

"What?"

"I want our love making to be special."

Ron grinned. "Great! I knew you'd come to your senses. Let's get to it."

"Get to what?" Hermione asked as Ron stripped, flinging his clothes to the bedroom floor.

"Making a baby."

"Oh no!"

"What do you mean _oh no_?"

"I mean exactly that. We can't afford another child."

"I'm the sixth of seventh children, and I grew up with less but I also got a whole lot more. The more important more!"

Hermione knew what Ron meant even though the words sloshed out of his mouth. If she found out who brought alcohol to today's festivities, she'd seal their mouth shut so they'd never drink again.

"Ron, we couldn't afford Rosie's wand. That's ludicrously poor."

"We could have looked around for one for her. You're always thinking Rose and Hugo are better than their cousins. Too good for hand-me-downs."

"Ron, I can't believe you. Don't you remember the dress robes you wore to the Yule Ball?"

"Why are you bringing that up? My mother did the best she could for me. I can't believe you'd belittle her like this. She has done so much for us. The least we could do is have another grandchild or two. Nothing would make her happier."

Fourteen-year-old Ron hadn't felt that way about the dress robes. And Hermione didn't need Molly Weasley giving Ron advice to have more children while he had no wages and was effectively unemployed. Or worse, advice about how to make children – how sex in their bedroom should happen. Ron put his little, ginger-haired flobberworm in her, called her names like his frisky quidditch slattern, squirted his seed in her, then rolled off probably mentally patting himself on the back for a job well done.

"No. Absolutely not. You are not getting near me, Ron."

"What? What about my marishul rights?" he slurred. "You, you, you don't want to, and I have to wait a week sometimes while you …" his hand fluttered towards the lower half of her body, "… whatever goes on."

Hermione pointed with both her hands to below her waist. "A lot can go on down there, but you don't want to know. You just want what you want when you want it. And I'm not putting up with it any more."

Ron looked taken aback. His mouth hung open. His eyebrows contracted. Thoughts sluggishly went through his head, since he wasn't thinking about quidditch or food. "Have you been casting those kind of charms on yourself?"

"What charms?"

" _Those_ charms."

"What charms are you talking about?"

"The ones for older witches who live alone with their kneazles and cats."

"What the hell are you talking about?"

"For the witches that can't get a husband to put the baby potion in them."

The baby potion? "Are you … you think I made a potion to have a baby? Haven't you been listening to me? I don't want another child!"

"No! I mean the charms for lonely witches. It's disgusting. They stir things up down there without a wizard."

"Are you _confunded_?"

"No! And I know that you can talk to those kind of witches. They tell you about the charms and then you think you don't need me. That's why you never want to have sex!"

He was raving. Hermione just said she didn't want another child. For now. Things were not good between them and a new baby wasn't going to fix it. In fact, it would keep her around the house more. There'd be diapers again. And Ron not helping her, but walking out the door to meet his quidditch buddies.

Hermione hurled his pillow at him. "Sleep it off on the couch!"

"It's the 20th anniversary of the day –"

"Can it! I have my own Order of Merlin." She pointed her wand at Ron. "Now go downstairs and sleep it off."

"All right." Ron turned and muttered about canaries pecking his balls.

Not sure if he'd stay down there, after giving up so easily, Hermione warded the door.


	29. Chapter 29 - June 19, 2018

Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter, nor any of the characters from the books or movies. I do not make any money from the writing of this story.

June 19, 2018, a Tuesday

Prof. McGonagall sent a house elf up to the Infirmary asking Hermione to meet in her office for lunch.

It was the last week of school. Hermione was nervous. Was she going to be allowed to continue in the Infirmary next year, or was Hannah confident she could handle things without Hermione's help? Or the big fear, had Prof. Snape said something?

Before leaving the infirmary, Hermione reviewed how she looked in the mirror. Apron and cap were clean and on straight.

When Hermione entered Prof. McGonagall's office, she said, "Have a seat, Madam Granger."

"You can call me Hermione."

"Perhaps I will. How far along are you with your healing curriculum?"

"Well, I wanted to take some more specialized courses still."

"And once you have finished them, what do you intend to do?"

"Help people. I like being able to make a difference."

"At St. Mungo's or elsewhere?"

"I think I'd be exposed to interesting cases at St. Mungo's. Perhaps even challenging."

"Your heart is set on healing then?" Prof. McGonagall summoned lunch and looked down at her desk for a moment.

"I want to make a difference. At the Ministry, I felt stifled. My ideas constantly met with opposition. When I wanted to do anything to make something happen, I had to compromise with others, and sometimes their wishes were in such contradiction to my own beliefs that I had to seriously weigh how important my goals were when compared to the setbacks I'd have to settle for."

Prof. McGonagall nodded. "The Ministry has always been so."

A laden tray appeared on the table between them with more food than the two of them could eat together in a day.

Prof. McGonagall gestured at the buffet before them. "Help yourself. For our next school year, do you need to dedicate more time to your studies? I don't want you to fall behind on account of us."

"Oh no," Hermione quickly said. She needed the money. "I'm happy to assist Hannah in the infirmary."

"Prof. Vector discussed her retirement plans with me." 

"Oh?" Prof. Vector wasn't the oldest professor at Hogwarts. Hermione thought Prof. McGonagall certainly had to be older than the arithmancy teacher.

"Yes." The deputy headmistress chose some finger sandwiches and placed them on her plate.

"Why are you telling me?" Hermione asked.

"In case you had any interest."

"Interest in … um, planning a retirement party, cleaning Prof. Vector's office, or something else?" Hermione tried to remain calm. Prof. McGonagall couldn't be suggesting that Hermione teach Arithmancy, could she? It would be another year till Hugo was a first year. She couldn't count on Ron. But Arithmancy had been her favorite subject at Hogwarts and she'd dearly love to have more occasion to use it.

"Teaching." Prof. McGonagall lifted the top slice of bread off her sandwich and peeked at the insides.

"Teaching is not the same sort of reward as being a healer at St. Mungo's. Which I'm sure you will do superbly, Hermione."

She chose to be blunt. "My youngest will not start at Hogwarts until next year, Professor."

"It's fortunate Prof. Vector is willing to delay her retirement a year for the right candidate."

Did Prof. McGonagall already suggest Hermione to Prof. Vector? That would be rude to do without talking to Hermione first. Hermione was serious about her studies and her goal. But Severus was here. If Hermione worked at St. Mungo's, she'd barely have any opportunity to see him. Could Severus have arranged this so Hermione would have an excuse to stay here with him?

And it would be convenient to have summers off with her children. She couldn't count on Ron to even come home at night any more. And when he came home drunk, smelly and staggering, and threw himself on top of her …

"You can have a couple days," Prof. McGonagall said. "Talk it over with your husband."

Like hell. Ron didn't tell Hermione what to do. Ron did whatever the heck he liked, even if it was reliving his childhood while he did nothing to help out his family.

"I will, Professor," Hermione agreed. She then added, "What about Prof. Snape?"

"What about him?"

"Is he in favor of me possibly teaching arithmancy at Hogwarts?"

"I'll let him know once everything is finalized. You could assist Septima next year and perhaps bone up on anything you've forgotten since your NEWTs. I believe you scored an Outstanding?"

"Yes, I did."


	30. Chapter 30 - June 21, 2018

Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter, nor any of the characters from the books or movies. I do not make any money from the writing of this story.

June 21, 2018, a Thursday

Hermione attended the End of Year feast, sitting at the staff table besides Hannah. She'd be helping her on and off during the summer with cleaning the hospital wing for some extra money.

She had dined at the head table before during the year. She loved it, and now she loved it even more with all the students in high spirits. The hall was decorated with Ravenclaw banners because they had won the house cup.

There were no surprise announcements awarding points to another house and stealing the cup away from the Ravenclaws.

Prof. McGonagall stood and spoke briefly while Prof. Snape watched from the headmaster's chair beside her.

Hermione really wanted the Arithmancy teaching position, but what if she were about to make another mistake?

She had looked down the table towards Severus almost every minute of this feast, and Hermione hadn't caught him looking at her once. It was disheartening how thoroughly he ignored her. She didn't even rate a smirk.

This wouldn't do. She needed to know where she stood with him.

She needed a chance to speak to him without all these people around. And tonight was not the night for that.

Tomorrow though, the students would board the train.

Hermione didn't know the staff's plans, but there was little reason for them to linger once the students left.

She waited till the teachers began to leave the table and approached Prof. McGonagall. "Professor, I'd like to speak to you further about what we discussed the other day. Would you be available tomorrow evening?"

"I'll send you a note with a day and time, Hermione. There's quite a lot that needs doing after the students depart."

Hermione nodded.

She was pleasantly surprised that an owl met her at home the next morning requesting Hermione join Prof. McGonagall in the Hogwarts staff room Sunday evening for dinner.


	31. Chapter 31 - June 24, 2018

Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter, nor any of the characters from the books or movies. I do not make any money from the writing of this story.

June 24, 2018, a Sunday

Hermione was used to flying by broom up to the school, so she knew her anxiety was due to her indecision and also the possibility that others were trying to manipulate her life. Prof. McGonagall snatched her up to work in the hospital wing, and now this opportunity to teach Arithmancy. Obviously Prof. McGonagall thought she could do this job, but was it only her? Hermione would find out tonight.

The Grey Lady passed her in the hall on the way to the staff room.

Both Prof. McGonagall and Prof. Vector were already there, each enjoying a glass of wine.

Prof. Vector waved at the carafes and differently shaped wine glasses at the end of the table. "Help youself, Hermione. School's out."

"Thank you, Professor." Which glasses went with which wine? She glanced at their glasses of red, and chose one of the ones that was a wide-bottomed one atop the stem, like theirs.

"Call me Septima. You're already staff."

"Quite. And you can call me by my given name also," Prof. McGonagall said.

"Thank you." Hermione carefully poured. Although they were putting her at ease, this could actually be an interview.

They both sat, and Hermione chose a seat across from them.

Septima started. "How have you been, Hermione? I haven't been by the hospital wing to chat."

"Good," she answered with a nod.

Minerva deadpanned, "Really?"

"Uh, well I mean Rose did cheat earlier this year. And since I've been at Hogwarts she hasn't … well, she never returns my waves, or stop by the infirmary to say 'hi' or anything. So it's not like I've been playing favorites or anything."

"Your daughter needs her space. And most of the students aren't associating you with her immediately due to the different last names."

Hermione nodded yet admitted, "I think she doesn't want me here. But Rose hasn't cheated since that one time and is getting top marks now."

Septima added, "Oh, your children wouldn't be able to be in arithmancy classes if you taught. But you can tutor them separately for their OWL and NEWT, if they wish to test in our subject."

"Oh, but …" Hermione stopped. That was fair. And that did limit what she could teach at Hogwarts while her children were students. An elective course would be best since she expected both Rose and Hugo were good students and could easily get into any advanced course she had taken as a student.

"And you wouldn't be able to award them points," Minerva said.

Hermione nodded her agreement. This did seem like serious talk about the position, but why wasn't the headmaster here? "Aren't we going to wait for Prof. Snape?"

"No, Severus won't be having dinner with us tonight," Minerva said.

Hermione blurted out, "Why?"

"I have the headmaster's trust in this matter, Hermione. Don't concern yourself with his opinion of you."

"What? What did he say about me?"

"He didn't say anything."

Septima said, "Drink up and calm your nerves. There's no need for pre-test jitters. We've both had you as our student."

Hermione sipped her wine. "Sorry. I worry about Prof. Snape. I, and so many of us, owe him so much, and I'm at a loss on how to … I don't know, thank him. He's not …" She ended with a shrug.

"He's as comfortable as he can be," Minerva assured her. "And he prefers to be left alone to read, and I somehow think he prefers written communications over meeting with people in person."

"I agree," Septima said. "He still runs the school though. Don't mistake his lack of physical presence as disinterest or ignorance. Severus knows many things before the rest of us."

"Oh right. Professor … I mean Minerva mentioned he can communicate with the school itself."

Minerva nodded. "I think that also takes his mind off the pain so he may lose himself in that frequently."

Their conversation paused for a moment, then Septima said, "But that's not why we're here."

"Quite," Minerva agreed. "Let me order up some nibbles and then we can talk candidly."

Talk candidly? What did Prof. McGonagall mean by that?

A number of mouth-watering selections popped onto the table. Raw vegetables cut in fancy shapes, surrounded a number of dips, including one that appearted to be on fire. There was a platter of towering assorted crackers with perfectly cut cheeses piled in great tumbles around its base separated by grapes and dried mango.

Hermione filled her small plate with a selection and made herself look comfortable as she waited for their first real question. She picked at her food and sipped wine to hide her nervousness.

As the silence lengthened, Hermione wondered if she made a mistake mentioning Prof. Snape. Perhaps she should allow herself to move on to other concerns. "But about the job and this next year, Hugo's still in school and I should be home to meet him."

"Understood," Septima said. "I'll probably let you grade papers so you needn't worry about not shouldering your fair share."

"What other reservations do you have, Hermione? What did Ron say?"

"Honestly, I didn't talk to Ron. Yet. Every move I make he disapproves of. For myself, I'm afraid of making another mistake. Other than a couple laws I wrote and got passed at the Ministry, I haven't done much since I received my Order of Merlin. I mean, I love my children, Rose and Hugo, but other than that, I feel I keep making the wrong decisions. I've been off-track. What if I should be a healer, instead of a teacher? On the other hand, I would have access to Hogwarts library, the ability to do my own research in the subjects that interest me, and work with some of the brightest witches and wizards in England."

"It sounds like you want me to convince you," Minerva said, "but what about Ron? Once Septima retires, you'll be here most days _and_ _nights_ during the term."

She might as well come right out and say what she felt. "That would be ideal, actually. I think I got married too soon. Ron and I … well, we have very different paths now that we're not helping Harry defeat Voldemort."

Both the teachers frowned. Minerva said, "I'm a widow. I don't regret being married."

"Other than my children, I have a lot of regrets."

"So you want the position at Hogwarts to hide from your husband?" Septima asked as their main course appeared on the table.

"No. I don't know. I'm uncertain. I don't want to give up. I don't want to hide. But I don't know what to do. I think of alternatives, but what if I make a mistake again? But I think I have to admit Ron and I are pretty much done. For years, he's put his quidditch and other things first. He hasn't cared about the rest of the family's plans or if he ruins them. Maybe we should divorce. I don't know. What if I'm making a mistake? If I'm at Hogwarts, I might not realize it till it's too late."

"St. Mungo's then?" Minerva suggested. "You'd be in London, rather than isolated here. You're still young."

Prof. McGonagall made a good point. But what she didn't know was Hermione had begun to fancy someone here at Hogwarts. If she wasn't Severus's healer at St. Mungo's, the chances would be slim that she'd ever see him outside of anniversaries at the school. Severus needed her. But the way he acted towards Hermione had her confused. Did he think of her as just a quick shag? Was he afraid of rejection? Part of her plan here tonight was to get an answer out of him.

Hermione sighed. "Maybe here's better. Harry and the Weasleys won't be happy with me. And I can at least see my children more often than if I were in London. I'm sorry, you're catching me at a difficult time in my life. And I'm burdening you with a lot that I haven't verbalized till now."

"It's your desire to succeed at everything that is holding you back," Minerva commented. "Hermione, you don't want to fail and perhaps that's why you've held onto a marriage that you don't see as beneficial."

"Well there's also the problem that Ron doesn't have any income outside of occasional money from George for thinking up joke products. The rest of the family have come to depend on what little income I bring in."

"Give him the house," Septima said. "Throw that into the divorce, and you'll live here. If he needs money, he can sell it."

"I have to think of Rose and Hugo. That's the only house we've ever had."

"They can spend holidays at the Burrow," Minerva suggested. "Surely, they are familiar with their grandparents' home?"

"And my parents," Hermione said. Her parents would be so disappointed in her if she left Ron. How would she explain it to them? They loaned her money when her family had none. They wanted her to stay with Ron.

Maybe she should get Harry's opinion before making a decision. He was both her best friend and Ron's. If she didn't talk to Harry, he would resent it.

"You'll need to make a decision soon, Hermione. If you don't want the position, we'll need to interview other candidates."

"I know," Hermione admitted. "I do like being back at Hogwarts. And maybe my reluctance is I don't want to give up healing entirely. Not that I'm presuming to know how busy Prof. Vector is day in and day out, I'm sure there's plenty to do with the position. But maybe I can help elsewhere in the school. I mean, I could check in with the hospital wing in the morning if there's a bout of flu or something, or perhaps check in on Prof. Snape daily, if he's not feeling well enough to join us in the Great Hall."

"We can discuss that later. For now, let's concentrate on you accepting the Arithmancy position with a year of assisting Septima while your youngest is not yet at Hogwarts. I can arrange the master schedule to have the third and possibly fourth year arithmancy classes in the mornings so you could begin teaching the newer students."

Septima laughed. "Are you offering me a lie-in every day, Minerva?"

"If Hermione can't make up her mind, I may find a candidate who can begin immediately," Minerva commented.

"It's not that I don't want the job," Hermione explained. "I … could you give me a week? I guess I need to talk to Ron first, and I was afraid of doing it." She actually needed time to talk to Harry and see if she could talk to Severus after dinner tonight.

"Afraid?" Minerva repeated.

"Not afraid, but I don't like all the fights. If I give him too much notice, he could even sabotage me. He's done it before." Using all their money to buy a car they didn't need, instead of the Rosie's school supplies was something Hermione never wanted to repeat.

Both her former teachers raised their eyebrows, but didn't directly question her.

"I know, it's petty," Hermione admitted, stabbing at a jacket potato on her plate. "And I'm not sure what Ron could do to stop me from teaching, but he's done some unbelieveable things. He puts a lot of effort into his plans, and hardly any at all into a real job, around the house, the kids … so I really wouldn't put anything past him."

"Is there another witch?" Septima asked.

Hermione shook her head. Ron was the face of the Chudley Cannons. He couldn't mess around without everyone knowing. And he still seemed interested in having sex with her, and Ron certainly didn't introduce any new moves in their bedroom. What woman would put up with that, unless they were married to him?

"Ron accused me of using charms on myself. Something about old witches with cats."

Both the older witches laughed.

"Is that funny?" Hermione asked.

"No, but I'm surprised you haven't read up on those yet," Minerva said.

Not sure if they were laughing at her or Ron, Hermione said, "I don't know why I'm blurting this all out tonight."

"Perhaps you're testing us," Minerva said. "If I wasn't willing to listen, then your path to St. Mungo's would be clear."

Septima laughed and refilled all their glasses.

Hermione held her hand out too late. "I wanted to stop up in the hospital wing after this. I misplaced a list that I thought I took home, and I'm not sure if I remember everything I had on it. It's been bothering me all day."

"Hannah's out for the evening."

Perfect. "It's not going to take long. And I'm embarrassed to have lost it so I'd rather not bother Hannah with my mistake."

"Is this how it's going to be next year?" Septima jested.

"No, ma'am. You know I can concentrate. My house is sort of in turmoil with Rose coming home from school. Somehow her trunk seemingly exploded and covered three rooms with her things. The original list will turn up eventually."

"Did you try summoning it?" Minerva suggested.

"Repeatedly. I think something heavy is pinning it down or it might not even be in the house." Why couldn't Hermione tell a little lie and get away with it? Ron did it effortlessly. Did she have 'guilt' written across her face? "So rather than harassing and waiting for Rosie to clear up her mess, I figured I'd pop upstairs while I was here."

"You're also avoiding a confrontation with your child?" Septima commented.

Hermione remained silent. She did not want to spend more time on her excuse to use the floo in the infirmary. If Severus had changed his floo password, the answer would be there.

"One thing at a time, Septima," Minerva said.

If Hermione was going to leave Ron, she had to spend this summer letting the children know she was there for them and that this was not their fault. She'd even take them to a few Cannons games, if she had to. The problem with quidditch games, even when they received free tickets, is the kids wanted to buy things to support the team. If the Cannons paid Ron, Hermione would be more flexible on how much money they wasted. After taking care of their household expenses with her Hogwarts earnings, there were barely any knuts to rub together in her pocket. A teacher's salary and not feeding Ron would go a long way towards improving her bottomline.

There was one other thing and she had to distract them from asking more questions about her fictious lost list. Hermione said, "I'm also afraid taking the arithmancy position will mean I've given up on healing. I gave up on the Ministry. I'll give up on healing without even really starting. And how can you depend on someone with that sort of record?"

"This is not Defense against the Dark Arts," Minerva said, "with a new teacher every year. But if you need to leave, I'm sure I'll manage."

Hermione didn't know if she should feel threatened or reassured that Hogwarts had other candidates.

*** ooo ***

Severus heated the pipe bowl with his hand, vaporizing the opium, and inhaled. The smoke washed through him tenderly caressing all his aches.

With smoking, Severus had a longer time to enjoy the building euphoria rather than the sudden cessation of pain his twice-daily potion delivered. The potions allowed him to immediately slip into a too-short painless state that allowed him to sleep.

Smoking allowed him more time to think while dreaming. Such real dreams which at times led to mental connections and magical discoveries. By the time the well of his imagination dried up, Severus would be ready to end it all.

Now he had another summer ahead of him. Free of students and concerns of the school, for the most part. More time to ease into pain relief, rather than a rush to crush it so he could rest.

He inhaled again, thought through his current pursuit, and sketched out a new diagram upon his long roll of parchment.

*** ooo ***

Hermione hoped it wasn't too late as she stepped out of the flames. She hadn't expected Minerva and Septima to spend so much time discussing recent Hogwarts graduates.

She didn't want to bother Severus while he slept again, but she felt it was important that they discuss things. Her decision about whether to teach at Hogwarts depended upon this discussion though, and Hermione said she would decide within a week.

Most of the large room was in shadow. There were a couple lamps lit by the open windows, and Severus was still dressed, reclining on his side upon a chaise while writing on a portable desk beside him.

Hermione stepped closer as he laid down his quill.

She then slowed her approach as he picked up a lengthy wizard pipe. She didn't know he smoked. It may be wizarding tradition, but definitely not healthy especially with Severus's condition.

The rainy, nighttime breeze from the high tower windows blew the scent towards her. Unexpectedly floral, sweet yet also hot, like flowers on fire.

His eyes were closed. Falling asleep while smoking was also a hazard. She stared at him. Hermione didn't want to alarm him for both their safety. He still was a powerful wizard.

Languidly, his eyelids drifted open. Severus placed his pipe on the side of the writing desk and picked up his quill again. He wrote rapidly filling inches of parchment with his notations.

When he paused, still not paying Hermione any mind even though she was close enough to reach down and touch either of his bare feet, she softly said, "Severus."

He scratched a few more words before laying down his quill and picking up the pipe.

As he inhaled, Hermione said his name again. This time more loudly.

The way he closed his black eyes as he held in the smoke repeated his earlier action and indicated to her either he enjoyed it or had made a ritual out of his smoking.

Obviously smoking a pipe was a bad habit Hermione needed to break. One way to rid oneself of a bad habit was a conscious decision to stop; another was to replace a habit with something preferable. Like her.

She took a step, reached out and plucked it from his hand.

His eyes opened immediately. He stared at her yet said nothing.

"Severus."

"Why are you here?" he asked.

"I wanted to see you."

He looked down at his notes then back at her. His lips parted, but again he remained silent.

"We need to talk," Hermione said.

He stirred, setting his portable writing desk on the floor, and sat up.

"I haven't been able to get you out of my mind," she admitted. "Whenever I've seen you since then, other have been around. But now we can talk."

Severus looked thoughtful.

Hermione wondered if smoking irritated his throat, further aggravating his prior injury. "There's so much we need to discuss."

When he didn't reply, she continued, "I want to be at Hogwarts more to see you."

His eyes widened as Hermione sat down beside him.

She made her move and threw her arms around him, careful of his left arm held close to his body in a sling. "I should divorce my husband."

He muttered, "What about your dowry?"

"What dowry?"

"You can't convince me you are so infatuated with me that you have no concern over that. What are you going to use as your reasoning to keep it?"

"What do you mean?"

"I'm not convinced," he stated. "How will you convince others?"

Although Hermione didn't marry with the tradition of a dowry from her family, she had to agree with his intent. She's look bad. "You're right. It's too soon. Too hasty. I have to think of the family as a whole. And the suddenness of you and me."

"More like disbelief," he admitted.

"Well, maybe. I mean you're remote and aloof and this would be a shock."

"Especially to me."

Hermione laughed. "Don't sell yourself short, Severus. You have a lot to offer. I don't want you to stay hidden up here in your tower."

"I prefer it."

"Well if I'm here with you, that's different." Hermione tried to kiss him but Severus turned his face away from her.

"No, I mean it," she insisted. "If I didn't need to go home, I'd spend weeks with you celebrating."

"Celebrating what?"

"You. Being with you. The way you make me feel." Hermione gripped him tighter with one hand, while reaching down for the hem of his black robe with the other.

While she got his robe above his knees, he concentrated on retaking his pipe from her hand behind him. He grabbed it without falling over.

"Don't smoke while I'm here," she said.

"You can't barge into my bedroom and tell me what to do." He put the pipe down next to the quills on his desk, contradicting what Hermione thought he intended with his words.

"I don't want you to get sicker. I'm here to help you get better." She pushed the front of his robe higher, exposing the front of his pants.

"What sick?"

"Smoke isn't good for your lungs." She slid off the chaise onto her knees before him.

"Unless someone is frequently taking a potion to repair poison damage," he responded.

That's right. Hermione had forgotten. Anything strong enough to keep Nagini's poison at bay was certainly strong enough to repair any non-magical damage.

*** ooo ***

Now that Bellatrix had her mouth on his half-blood cock without offering any insults or looks of abject disgust, Severus knew as soon as she acquired whatever the Dark Lord wanted, he was as good as dead. She had no intention of letting him live. Even now, she could bite off his manhood or stab him in the femoral artery, both thoughts heightened his normal repulsion at being touched.

He nonverbally summoned a vial of the potion he prepared after his last encounter with the abhorrent witch. She rubbed him raw to obtain a response, and he hadn't wanted to repeat that. He wouldn't be able to get hard in her mouth without magic and this would allow him to retain the ability to think of important things while she carried on performing her mission for the Dark Lord.

Severus had not been fooled by her offer to leave Rodolphus for him. He doubted she'd follow through, but if the Dark Lord commanded it she would and Rodolphus would offer either token or no resistance. He may even thank Severus for taking this homicidal witch off his hands.

The Dark Lord must value Rodolphus more than Severus thought. It was certainly easier for Bellatrix to become a widow than for two pure-bloods of their standing to divorce. How would they do that if they were both Azkaban escapees … unless the Dark Lord had taken over the Ministry to such a degree that pardoning his Death Eaters was not an issue.

Things outside Hogwarts had worsened dramatically more than Severus feared for that to occur.

Merlin damn Dumbledore's skanky arse! The cow climbed on top of him and he ended up inside this mingbag's swampy quim again.

When she tried to mash her lips into his again and he turned his head to avoid that further stomach-turning act, Bellatrix grabbed his good arm so it could no longer support him. He ended up on his back with his head hung over the side of the furniture.

Although this was an ideal position for vomiting, he couldn't. Bellatrix may snap and kill him now, rather than later. Why hadn't the Dark Lord considered her normal homicidal tendencies before assigning her this task? Or no – Severus underestimated the Dark Lord. He knew Bella and Bella's thirst for blood. Perhaps whatever he wanted from Severus was not all that important if he assigned Bellatrix the task.


	32. Chapter 32 - June 25,2018

Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter, nor any of the characters from the books or movies. I do not make any money from the writing of this story.

June 25, 2018, a Monday

Sometimes his aches screamed at him to wake rather than prodding him early in the morning. Today, Severus's bad shoulder repeatedly shouted, "Fire!" into his face, while the adjoining shoulder blade complained that he was stabbed in the back.

Waking naked in the bath tub might account for why his body woke him so early today.

A house elf probably drained the water to keep him from drowning. It wasn't the first time he woke in the bathroom, but he usually fell asleep on the toilet. Opium use came with constipation, and Severus couldn't be bothered to track such nonsense once he began to doubt his notes and the calendar. Taking a potion to remedy that twice because he forgot he had already taken the first dose was worse than what he was trying to cure. Severus only made that mistake about a half dozen times in the early years before he learned his lesson. And once 'Potty' Pomfrey was gone, no one pestered him over his bowels.

It appeared he never made it to bed last night, but he had been smoking and making notes. Severus looked over what he had written and drew last night. It appeared he never reached the 'rubbish stage' where his writing either became deranged or illegible.

A potion vial was with his pipe. What the hell was wrong with him? He took a dose of hard-on enhancement and then … he looked around for indications to contradict his suspicion that he wanked in the bath.

A hollow coldness formed in his chest. The delusions about Bellatrix and now whatever this was? Had the poison reached his brain? Books – muggles did something with mapping functions to areas of the brain. But could he trust himself to do the research? He didn't have anyone else. If he even gave a hint of what he suspected, they'd take his wand. Lock him up. They'd probably cut off his leg and arm like they threatened, and leave him a prisoner in his own body.

The pain … he couldn't take his potion this early. Severus didn't want to be scrutinized by the portraits downstairs. They were supposed to be loyal to him, yet they summoned house elves and the mediwitch without his consent.

It was the holiday. Why did he have to suffer through mail and breakfast today? He wasn't hungry.

Last night's vial of pain potion was still in the rack. He hadn't taken it.

Severus took a step back and studied his potions laboratory.

He opened his stash of opium and diamorphine, before admitting that he was puzzled rather than so high last night that he'd mixed everything up.

His twice-a-day pain potions were racked in a way to keep it easy for him to track, and he checked them all to make sure they were what he expected. The reminder charm was lit on this morning's, but there was still an untouched vial in last night's slot.

There was no reasonable explanation to why he'd be so _confunded_ that he'd pass this and go over to a drawer to choose hard-on enhancement, rather than a pain potion. That wouldn't take care of pain, just add slight discomfort to the increasing pain. If he took that by mistake, Severus knew he'd still be driven to retrieve the right potion.

He was going insane. There was no other explanation for it.

Severus laid his wand down and tested his ability to wandlessly summon. The poison vial flew into his hand without any delay. If they took his wand, he would still be in control. He returned the fatal, quick-acting poison to its rightful place.

There was no point in standing around suffering and worrying. Severus took last night's vial of pain potion and retreated to bed.

He could give it more thought later, after he copied out his notes from last night. He'd somehow verify his conclusion and then proceed with his plan to finish it all on his own terms.

For now, he didn't have to fear losing his wand and being hacked into pieces.


	33. Chapter 33 - June 29, 2018

Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter, nor any of the characters from the books or movies. I do not make any money from the writing of this story.

June 29, 2018, a Friday

Hermione had to keep her bubbling joy bottled up inside herself while she was away from Severus.

After writing Harry to find out when he'd be free, she devoted herself to Rose and Hugo. Hermione wanted to make this a summer to remember for them. Thanks to Hermione's wages from assisting in the hospital wing all year and floo powder still at two sickles a scoop, they could take day trips around the country visiting whatever caught their fancy.

Frequently they visited Molly and their cousins at the Burrow, and Hermione left her children there before apparating to meet Harry at his house.

After Harry ushered her into his house, he asked, "What's up?"

Hermione sat down. "I have a lot on my mind, and I needed a friend to talk it over with."

"Okay," Harry said, but Hermione heard the tone in his voice.

"Ron doesn't approve of my choices. He made fun of me working at the Ministry, he's belittled my healer studies, I don't raise children or housekeep or pop out babies like his mother, and now I have an opportunity – and although I think I know what I want to do, whatever I choose isn't going to make Ron happy."

Harry's frown deepened as she spoke. "Sounds serious."

"It is. I know Ron depends on what little money I earned helping out at Hogwarts. I'll make more once I'm a healer and employed. But while I was at Hogwarts, I was let in on an upcoming retirement and I'd really love to teach."

"What about Hugo?"

"Well that's a great point, Harry. And I tried that on Prof. McGonagall, and she said I could put it off a year till Hugo's a first year. And since it's an optional subject, Hugo and Rose could be students while I'm a teacher."

"What subject?"

"Arithmancy. But don't go telling people; I don't know if Prof. Vector wants it public knowledge."

"You love Arithmancy."

"Well yeah, but … that wasn't my initial plan when I decided to train to be a healer. You don't think it would make me a quitter?"

"How often is a Hogwarts teacher going to retire? You might have to wait twenty or fifty years for another chance, if you even get another chance. I think teaching at Hogwarts would be a once in a lifetime offer, Hermione. You could become a healer later, if that's what you want to do."

"You're making it sound too simple, Harry." Actually, if Ron had asked Harry for advice he may have been told to play quidditch before he was too old. But Hermione knew Ron hadn't told Harry anything in advance. Harry had been upset over Ron's letter of resignation.

"I don't like overthinking things," Harry said. "That leads to being unable to make a decision. And if you're considering the position, that tells me that you don't hate being at Hogwarts after a year of scrubbing bed pans in the hospital wing."

"There's very little actual bed pan use."

"James certainly seems to get a lot of detentions cleaning them."

"Don't let James know how little they're used. So you think it's okay I take the job? I'll help out in the next year, get my feet wet, and then when Hugo's a first year, I'm there full-time."

"You're relying on me to make the decision?"

"Not entirely, but I just need to know someone will be on my side besides Prof. McGonagall and Prof. Vector. And this could be the end of Ron and I. Not just a quitter at healing, but a quitter on my marriage. That's why I really wanted to talk to you, Harry. Am I terrible?"

"Uh well …" Harry looked uncomfortable.

"Ron gave up on you, Harry. More than once. Is it too hard to think he'd give up on me? Our children?"

"Has Ron moved out or something?"

"No, he comes home to sleep, eat, and shit."

"Oh." Harry let that one word hang between them.

"You'll still be my friend? I'm not asking you to give up Ron, but I don't want to lose both of you."

"Of course," Harry said. "But maybe Ron'll come round."

Hermione didn't want Ron to 'come round'. She had had it with him.


	34. Chapter 34 - June 30, 2018

Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter, nor any of the characters from the books or movies. I do not make any money from the writing of this story.

June 30, 2018, a Saturday

After Hermione posted her decision to take the position to Prof. McGonagall, it was time to tell Ron of her plans.

Except Ron did not arrive home till the early hours of Saturday morning, instead of Friday.

Following quidditch practice, Ron frequently went out with his team mates.

Hermione decided to wait till morning or afternoon, when he greeted her when he got home at three in the morning immaturely with a "Oi, it's Mizzzzz Granger. Up past eight? Ain't you gettin' too old to be up this late, Mizzzzzz Granger? You need all the beauty sleep you can get these days. You're not getting younger and you certainly don't take exercise."

With drink exposing Ron's attitude about her, Hermione wasn't so willing to let him have the house if she left him.

"Ron, get up."

"Huh?"

"It's after noon, and I have things I need to get done today. I don't want to wait around for you any longer."

"Take the kids to the Burrow," Ron groaned. "I have a hangover."

That annoyed Hermione. The kids were over at Harry's today. She had told him earlier in the week that's where they'd be. "So a hangover's a good reason to miss practice? I see." Spending time with their children certainly wasn't. "Well, I'll make this quick then. I'm taking a teaching position at Hogwarts."

"What? But what about … did you kill someone? Snape?"

"That's what you think of my healer training to date? I can kill someone?"

"But wait –" Ron fell out of bed.

"Enjoy your hangover." She left. If he was really sick enough to miss practice or not even pay attention to where their children were, then he shouldn't be able to be able to start an argument. If not, he was faking it to have another lie in. That wouldn't surprise her.

Hermione could hear Ron thundering down the stairs from outside the house.

"Wait!"

"What?"

"What about …" He squinted in the sunlight and held a hand up to shade his face. "… the house? Will you be home weekends?"

"I'll be home every night. Hugo's not old enough for Hogwarts."

"And me?"

"I suppose if you're home, yes."

"Once Hugo's a student, you'll be home every night?"

"No. Why?"

"Me."

"You're not a child, Ron."

"I'm your husband."

"I won't be the first married staff member."

"But none of them are married to me! You can't take the job."

"Oh yes I am. Go back home to your mother if you can't handle washing your pants."

Ron's face brightened. "Good idea. My mum won't let you take that job."

Hermione laughed. Since when did Mrs. Weasley get a say in what she could or couldn't do? There was no way Ron was going to go crying to his mother though.


End file.
